Truth be told
by puzzlepuzzle
Summary: Sequel to Truth. Athrun Zala rejoiced when Cagalli Yula Atha slipped on the same ring she left behind three years ago. But nobody said keeping it on would be easy either. This is the story that took place seven years before the final epilogue in Truth.
1. Chapter 1

Note: If you haven't read **Truth**, I recommend that you read **Truth** first before you read this, or else the later plot developments will be a cause of scratch-head-moments. This story takes place straight after the wedding in **Truth**, which by itself, took place a year after Cagalli accepted Athrun's proposal.

Disclaimer: I don't own GS/GSD, please R&R!

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**C.E.77**

Chapter 1

She looked at him and couldn't stop grinning like a Cheshire cat.

And then Athrun finally noticed that she was staring blindly at him while he was adjusting his tie and looked at Cagalli.

"What?" he muttered testily with a question in his voice, a little uncomfortable at the goofy grin she had and the way her amber orbs were peering at him.

"I can't believe this is happening," she said simply and she proceeded to pinch his arm, resulting in a little yelp of pain that escaped entirely from his lips.

"What did you do that for?" he cried furiously, massaging the spot where her fingers had pressed his flesh quite unforgiving, "If you think it's a dream you

are in, then you ought to pinch yourself, not me!"

Cagalli chuckled and retorted without thinking, "I was afraid of hurting myself."

But a minute later, Athrun had launched himself at her and swept her into his arms, tickling her and making her cry out with laughter and anguish until she was breathless and consumed with giggles.

"N-not fair," she howled, tears leaking out of the corners of her eyes, "You know I-I'm ti-ticklish a-and that you aren't!"

"I know," he laughed, ceasing and allowing her to recover a bit, "And that's the whole point."

She nuzzled obligingly into the warmth of his chest with her arms enwrapped securely around his back and then Cagalli laughed a little more and she turned her head up towards him and said ruefully, "Alright, we have to get going. If we don't, then the reception will wait and then people we'll think we're trying to be fashionably late like some celebrity couple, which we, fortunately for the world and ourselves, aren't."

"We aren't," Athrun agreed, still not making an attempt to get up from the chair he had collapsed in with her and gazing at Cagalli, "But that's not what the rest of the world thinks."

"Prove it," she cried in shock, twisting madly in his arms to get a better look at his face and to see if Athrun was joshing with her.

"Check the newspapers," he offered quite off-handedly, "There are thousands of letters in those, you know, requesting more footage and photographs of the wedding, which I'm sure you're glad is over rand done with, and there's the ASUCAGA FORVER crap flying around in news ads I haven't even heard of in my twenty-two years of living."

She sprang up swiftly like a bullet that had bounced right off the wall, her features comical in the panic that flashed over her face, and her blonde hair was a ruffled mess that he found terribly attractive at that point. Quite ignoring the fact that he was staring, she ranted madly, "It's your fault! Now the world knows we got married!"

"Correction, Cagalli," he retorted, pushing himself out of the chair and niftily kicking it behind him so that it slid into the slot in between the desk, "It's not my fault that the world knows we got married. It's your brother's fault."

"You and Kira," Cagalli shot, quite upset very suddenly, "Why'd you go and announce that we were getting married to the world?"

"I didn't," he chuckled, leaning against the desk and gazing at the feisty Cagalli, "But I had to at least inform the PLANT Supreme Council that I was getting married, after all, that's' what employees do for their employers."

Her lips unconsciously arranged themselves into a semi-pout, semi-scowl, and her eyes flashed pure fire as Cagalli crossed her arms obstinately and glared at him. And Athrun caught himself ogling at her again even though she didn't notice he had been staring at her for the past couple of minutes and she cried helplessly, "So you mean they, and Kira, announced it to the rest of the world, and now we have to attend bloody functions like these no matter where we go for the bleeding honeymoon?"

"That's about right," he said as-a-matter-of-factly, then he laughed, producing a deep, warm sound that mollified her somewhat and she sighed and ruffled her hair a bit more, somehow achieving a messy effect that made her look terribly charming and child-like.

"In fact," Athrun continued in a blithe voice, "We have to start getting ready now, or we'll be late."

Her head swivelled up to the clock in the room and she gave a little shriek as her eyes widened to double their size. He would have liked to stare a bit more at her and grin like an idiot at Cagalli, but she had fled out of his room like a cat the very next moment, and he presumed that she would be in her own room getting ready.

"Stupid Kira," he muttered, kicking the leg of the chair, cursing his best friend for encouraging the Supreme Council to go ahead and blast the news to the rest of the world which now felt like they had a royal obligation to celebrate the marriage.

Athrun Zala, chairman of PLANT's ETERNITY, currently stationed in the United Emirates of ORB, had been married to Cagalli Yula Atha, last member of the Atha House and the Supreme Commander of ORB for a grand total of one day.

Not that he wanted it to be that way of course. Athrun Zala had spent nearly everyday of last year trying to get her to marry him, and she had refused, but he hadn't been discouraged because he knew she would have agreed in time to come.

But then, half a year ago, she had been involved in a freak accident with him, and that had been a rut he had to unpick both of them out of.

Cagalli, literally blinded, her eyes closed, had been distant and lost in her own world, where he logically assumed, was only filled with darkness and very little else. She had been so insecure and afraid of everything she couldn't see with her own two eyes that he had almost lost her during that time.

But in retrospect, Athrun had almost lost Cagalli Yula Atha three years ago when he had left for PLANT to rejoin ZAFT and effectively put the only person he had truly loved in the hands of those who didn't care about her nor gave a hoot about her pain while they made her a puppet and threw her around like a rag-doll. He would never forgive the Seirans, not Yuna Roma Seiran either, that went without saying, but then he'd never forgive himself for choosing to leave her behind either.

Yet, at that point of time, it had been crucial to leave to see if he could sort out the mess his father had left for him as some parting gift or another. His father, consumed by hatred and the realisation of lost dreams when Lenore Zala had died, had wanted the death of all Naturals. Would that have compensated the death of his mother, Athrun Zala didn't know. At the very least, that was the minimum Patrick Zala lived for. Revenge had been the key for both of them, but Patrick Zala had died while his son had lived.

"Athrun!" Cagalli was calling from outside as she knocked lightly, "Are you ready?"

He shook his head hurriedly to clear himself of the thoughts and got up again, smoothing his long jacket and making sure his freshly-ironed shirt was tucked in properly into his dark pants. The reporters would have a field day if they caught him looking shabby or scruffy, then Kira would frame the picture of a would-be-scruffy-Athrun Zala as proof to Lacus that he, Kira, had a right to wear his pyjamas to work or something insane like that.

Swiftly, he moved to the door and pushed it open and stared at Cagalli who was standing outside and peering curiously to see if he was done. She looked terribly fetching in the dress Lacus had given her for a wedding gift, it was quite elaborate where Cagalli's own standards where concerned, especially since Cagalli had a stint as a resistance fighter in the Desert Dawn troops atone point of time, but then for tonight, it would more than suffice.

Blushing slightly when she noticed that he was staring at her turquoise dress, she grabbed his arm roughly and said very hurriedly, "Let's go, let's go, I don't want anyone to stare and pass me that jacket while you're at it, I don't want them to take a photograph of me like this and send it to Kira, he'll tease me and I don't want to have to beat him up for it."

Her words came out in a terrible rush and almost too quick for him to hear, but then her large eyes and pink cheeks were more than enough to tell him that she was embarrassed at having to wear a formal dress like this to suit the occasion. So Athrun chuckled and closed the door, but then he looked around and saw that the corridor of the level was vacant, and he mashed her against the wall behind her and gently tucked some loose blonde strands behind her ears and said softly, "There's absolutely no need for a jacket. Besides, the whole point of today's event is the photographs, and they won't put away the cameras just because you don't want Kira to see you wearing this."

"If I plead hard enough, they might relent," she began hopefully, her eyes wide and lovely, but then he grinned ruefully and stroked her cheek, saying playfully, "If I had a choice, I wouldn't want anybody to see you except myself."

Then he swiftly captured her lips with his so Cagalli wouldn't try to argue and maybe, try to run back to her room to change into something she felt less strange in.

But she didn't look strange, by his word, she didn't. In fact, Cagalli looked stunning in the exquisite turquoise material Lacus had probably handpicked for her, and that only went to show that Cagalli was as beautiful as Athrun knew she was, and that Lacus had very, very good taste. He would make a note to tell Lacus that later if he got the chance.

"Let's go," he said finally with a but of regret in his voice, promptly pulling her from where he had plastered her across the wall with his won weight, and then she stumbled a little in her heels until she regained her balance with a little of his help. As he led her by her hand, a flash of silver and ruby caught his eye, and he smiled knowingly at Cagalli as she followed his emerald gaze down to her finger where the ring sparkled.

The realisation that he was looking at the hand caused her to blush even though she desperately tried not to show her reaction to his intense gaze, and thankfully, a diversion at the other end of the hotel lounge was caused at that very instant.

The bodyguards were waiting for her, but then they always were, Athrun thought dryly, and amidst the three bodyguards who had accompanied Cagalli, a dark-haired girl wearing a pink dress and who was jumping everywhere excitedly caught his eye. It was almost comical, for the only female bodyguard and the youngest out of all of the seasoned protectors stood out terribly from the other bodyguards who were decked in dark suits and unapologetically male.

'Imagine if Alex Dino was still around to teach them how bodyguards should behave,' he thought wryly, noting the way the bodyguards were looking at Cagalli with the kind of affection he knew they really meant from the bottom of their hearts.

And Cagalli laughed and her arm which he had looped with his tugged away almost involuntarily, and she waved back to Rainie.

"You brought her here too?" he said incredulously, watching Cagalli's face glow, alight with joy and cheerfulness.

She glanced at him and snorted, retorting quite teasingly, "I was sure you wouldn't mind another female's company, especially when it's Rainie's, she being pretty and young and all that."

"I'm a paedophile who goes for sixteen year olds when I'm twenty-two," he agreed mockingly, retaking her hand in his and leading her forward gently, "What else do you expect?"

"I thought so," she said terribly seriously, but he caught the flash of mischief in her eyes and he smirked and led her into the car her bodyguards were all getting into.

Berlin was in the midst of winter, and for the life of him, he didn't expect why she wanted to go there. He would have preferred somewhere less chilly at this point of time, but if that was what Cagalli Yula Atha wanted, that was what he'd give her.

Rainie, positioned in the front seat, started chattering away like a monkey and Cagalli joined in the conversation and they started talking about things he didn't understand and things he really didn't want to either. Rainie was talking about guns and some weird weapon Vino had came up with or some random gadget and Cagalli would be interested, no doubt about that, he thought dryly.

The last time he had came here, he had seen Cagalli, cold and a stranger, tied to her duties more securely than they had to be, living in a shadow of her former self, eyes cynical and warmth ebbing very quickly out of her. And Athrun had felt agony when he gazed into her vivid amber eyes at that time, because he knew she was destroying herself and destroying him and the same time.

The ring that now sat securely on her finger had been in his pocket for two years when Meyrin Hawke had passed it back to him. He had been thankful to Meyrin Hawke for saving his life when he had been aboard the Minerva, but then something in her blue eyes had disturbed him, and he knew that allowing the girl to get closer would mean certain destruction of her heart. And Athrun hadn't minded Meyrin, the heavens knew he didn't, because she was innocent and sincere, quite lovely with her glossy red hair and sweet heart-shaped face in fact, but then he really wasn't interested in Meyrin Hawke at all.

All the while, he had ignored her interest in him because he didn't want to lead her on, and most of the time, Athrun pretended he didn't know anything. For a very minimal period of time, he had considered allowing her to get closer to him, but then he decided in the end that he rather get immersed and completely enslaved his work as ETERNITY's chairman then allow Meyrin to be led on, but that was of course, if he couldn't have another person, possibly the only person he wanted at all. Then after the war had been over, she had been his assistant for a while, but then she had left without much of any notice and then the ring had been with him after that.

'Until now,' he thought to himself, gazing at the glimmering ring he had convinced Cagalli to keep on. She was stubborn as a mule, there was no doubt about it at all, but then Athrun Zala wasn't the pansy sort either, he had wanted her and he had gotten her in the end.

But it was ridiculous how unsure she was of the whole business, she had been reluctant to let anyone know she was his even up to the time when he had literally forced open her eyes and convinced her to marry him, and then she was edgy about being with him even then, and having the world as a fanclub didn't really help either, but that was in her opinion at least.

Athrun didn't care about the rest of the world of even give a hoot about how many supporters they both had as long as he had her to himself.

Then he glanced out of the window, seeing the dark night sky and twinkling lights of the city and the expansive screens stretched across the buildings where he had almost watched Cagalli die in the hands of an absolute lunatic. He repressed a shudder and tried to erase all the bad memories from his mind, because all that mattered now was the present and her presence as she sat there next to him.

They were staying in the same hotel, but if it was a different one, then it would be peculiar, if not bizarre, since a married couple on honeymoon was expected to stay in the same hotel at the very least. But the night they had checked in, the largest room available was really two separate one s with a conjoined door, and anyway, Cagalli kept it locked because she accused him of being guilty of snoring like thunder, which he knew wasn't true.

Besides, during the night before, when they had arrived in Berlin bedraggled and entirely worn from the flight, she had collapsed into a bed and taken up the whole space with the way she sprawled all over it, so he knew there wasn't any chance of getting her to wake up and discussing the plans for the future with him.

And that suddenly brought to his attention the fact that Lacus was nearly a month pregnant with Kira and her first child after marriage for a year. He was sure that the child, boy, they had said, would be born with an angel's face, since Lacus was very beautiful and Kira's looks weren't exactly substandard either. But Athrun wondered briefly if Leon would take after his mother's musical voice or his father's engineering genius. Either of which didn't matter, as long as they didn't expect him to discipline the child like the way they requested for him to discipline their dog Soufflé, he was quite fine with either way the child would turn out. With Kira and Lacus as parents and their fine temperament each, how mischievous could a child of theirs turn out to be, really?

The event Cagalli and him had been forced to attend was held by the EA government in Berlin, since it was announced all over the world that they would be going to Berlin for their honeymoon. 'Kira's doing too,' Athrun thought sourly. He didn't mind if the world knew, but then Cagalli minded, and then she was going to give him hell because of that, especially since there wasn't' anyone else she could go vent her frustrations on.

"Athrun," Cagalli suddenly said, effectively interrupting his thoughts, "I got message from Lacus, they want a middle name for Leon too, so you can start cooking up one now."

He squinted to see her in the darkness and offered causally, "Tell them I'll think of one soon, but they have to come up with the other six names for us first. Think of it as a win-win situation."

She gaped at him, that he could make out in the darkness at least.

"I thought that was a joke!" she said weakly, feeling like her knees were wobbling uncontrollably. In actual fact, they were.

"You could think of it as one," he replied very easily, taking her small hand in his and noting it was a bit cold, "But one day you'll look around you and say that it wasn't a joke."

And Cagalli wrestled her hand from his and shook her head furiously. 'There goes the all the work Rainie did," he thought cheerfully as a pin threatened to slide out of her blond hair.

"We don't have time for children!" she protested violently, but then the male bodyguards in the front started arguing that she did because simple readjustments to the schedule would suffice and that it was terrible for Athrun not to have children and something about lovely angels not being put into the earth in three different voices, then Rainie's voice got the loudest and the most prominent, so Athrun didn't have to argue at all because the three bodyguards were doing too fine a job of arguing for his case.

'They shouldn't be bodyguards,' he thought briefly, 'more like lawyers or attorneys with all the bloody things they're railing at each other now.'

Then the bodyguard controlling the wheel gestured in his excitement, forgetting that his hands were suddenly lifted completely off the wheel, and then he swerved and accidentally crossed a red-light because he was too eager to argue that children were the joy of adulthood or something like that, and Rainie shrieked loudly in sheer horror and started babbling about hidden cameras and blind corners and Cagalli had to intervene and yell furiously above the noise, "Shut it all of you!"

So the rest of the trip was spent in silence, or glowering silence, since Cagalli refused to even look at him after that, and when they arrived, she only let him take her hand because the cameras were enveloping them in a swarm like they were some royal couple.

"Only to the fan clubs," he thought dryly, noting the scowl threatening to explode behind her rather pained smile.

"Miss Atha!" the EA Berlin ambassador was exclaiming, a wide smiled etched form corner to corner, "Or should I say Mrs Zala?"

'Don't!" Athrun and Cagalli interrupted hastily and loudly, both at the exact same time.

Quite taken aback, the various delegates stepped back and the lead who had spoken cocked his head to the side and asked curiously, "Why not?"

"I'm not used to it," Cagalli started to say as a blush threatened to rise in her cheeks.

"She'd liked to keep her maiden name in honour of her family," Athrun said hurriedly before she could speak, thinking to himself, "She'll probably say she's not used to it and then it's going to be bizarre on headlines with the big bold words, 'Cagalli Yula Zala- the name she's not used to, or something bloody like that."

Of course he didn't articulate his thoughts, because Athrun wasn't enough of an idiot for that.

"Right," Cagalli agreed instantly, flashing a smile at the ambassador who turned an ugly purple colour that resembled the colour a person turned when he was choking, even though the ambassador was merely enamoured by her.

'Merely enamoured?'Athrun thought amusedly, 'More like terribly enamoured.'

And Athrun led her by her hand up the steps and into the decadent hall where the cameras started snapping photographs all over again, and he was forced to stand tall and smile and look directly into the cameras as a flood of questions were thrown at him until he actually felt faint.

'Why didn't you announce you were together with the Miss Atha until half-a-year before the wedding?" some random reporter was positively shrieking at him over all the noise.

He was taken aback, why the hell were these people so nosy? But then he had to grit his teeth and ignore the blinding lights and answer charmingly, "We didn't want to rush things too much, in case the situation got too messy for either of us to handle. Besides, the person who let the cat out of the bag was Professor Kira Yamato, or as he is known now because of his job in ZAFT, Commander Yamato."

"Why did you find yourself attracted to Miss Atha, sir?" some woman was asking loudly, and he thought to himself that her lips were stained with a colour so red it looked like she had been a vampire at some point of time or another.

"Why ask that question when you can all see why?" he shot back instantly, quite surprised at the slight indignation he suddenly felt that was rising in his chest. Then all eyes were turned to Cagalli standing slightly behind him while she tried to ignore all the questions tumbling at them, and then a collective murmur ran through the room.

And Athrun thought dryly that all of them were fools for not noticing that night, that Cagalli Yula Atha was more beautiful in real life than in the pictures. Those that were taken did her very little justice because she was often photographed during speeches which were anything but roses and daisies and that sort of trivial things.

They were fools, all of them, because they had been blinded by her competence as a leader to be blinded to the fact that she was exceptionally beautiful even though Cagalli Yula Atha's beauty wasn't the conventional sort, and perhaps that was the reason why she shone above the average.

"Enough of the questions," a leader was barking authoritatively, "We want to get down to dinner to congratulate the young couple!"

"Then why'd you invite the bloody media in the first place?" Cagalli was hissing at Athrun even thought the question wasn't directed towards him, and he knew she obviously couldn't scowl at the leader and shake her fist at him even though she probably wanted to.

"One last shot sir! Smile! Go on!" a reporter was yelling enthusiastically, and Cagalli looked into the camera, ready to give the smile she had learnt along time ago just to get over and done with the whole hectic thing, but Athrun gazed at her, impenetratable but vulnerable at the same time, and in a single, soft motion, he swooped down and turned her head towards him so he kissed her cheek and the cameras were clicking like the photographers and reporters had lost control of their index fingers and wild applause broke throughout the hall.

Her eyes had widened and her lips were parted in surprise, and Cagalli actually stumbled back slightly, shell-shocked at his inexplicable action, but he smiled briefly and led her steadily to the table where he was directed into the seat next to hers. She put up very little resistance, she was too stunned for that.

The government officials and important people seated themselves too, and Athrun was reminded of the uncannily alike situation a year ago when he had sat down to dinner and eaten nothing that pleased him because the girl he had loved who was sitting before him had been a stranger. But now, it was different, she was his wife and nobody would take her away.

Throughout the whole dinner, they made pleasant conversation, quite out of courtesy since they had been invited to the function and it was their obligation to be warm and generous to those who had so kindly invited them. And a toast was proposed in their honour, and they had to stand and lift their glasses, but Athrun noticed that she touched the glass to her lips very briefly and didn't drink at all.

He wasn't too bothered by it because he knew she didn't like alcohol very much and wasn't the kind who could hold her liquid superbly well even thought she was reasonably skilled at drinking. He knew that very well, he had used it once against her to get information about herself that she had been impossibly tight-lipped about.

When they finally got back to the hotel, she disappeared into her room, and he into his, but half-an-hour later, she had unlocked the adjoining door from the other side and stood in the doorway. She had cleaned her face from the light cosmetics she had applied for that night, and Athrun stared and thought that she looked more stunning with her features bare to him.

It was miraculous how much the turquoise colour she wore complimented the sepia tones and luxurious reds the decoration schemes of her room had, and he was blinded by the exquisite picture she made for a split-second. But that was before she ruined it by yawning and stretching with very little grace and he was reminded of the fact that she had kept the door stubbornly locked, not that they had been here for a long time if one considered the fact that he had checked them in only a night ago.

Then she kicked off her heels causally and he noted one being flung under his desk, and then she suddenly sprang onto his bed, pulling the covers to keep herself warm whereby she looked at him silently. He replied by gazing at her silently from where he was seated, obstinately holding his silence too, and she finally gave up and scowled and demanded in an upset voice, "Why'd you go and pull a fast-one like that?"

"Like what?" he replied, quite puzzled by what she meant.

"You know, the photograph taking session and everything," she insisted, obviously avoiding the word 'kiss' and proceeding to chew her lip and bounce on the bed a little, looking strangely like a child that had been deprived of its favourite stuffed rabbit.

"I just wanted to," he replied simply but somehow very enigmatically, and he smiled suddenly, and she saw what a world of difference it made to his serious, handsome face with their green eyes that she would always recognise as his.

Then Cagalli sighed and took his hand, playing with his fingers quite idly, and when she was ready to speak, she cleared her throat slightly and inquired, "Did you know what I meant when I said we don't have time for children?"

"Yes," he said briefly, "You think there's only enough time for our work and this marriage, nothing else should exist outside the circle."

"That," she agreed, not quite looking at his eyes because she was feeling a bit upset for a reason she couldn't place her finger on, "And also because I'm not very good with kids, I'm the kind who'll hit it off with kids but can't look after them very well if you understand what I mean."

He sighed this time and stoked her hair gently, and then he murmured, "That's what you think, but it can't be proven."

"It's true," she insisted, her eyes wide and her brow furrowed, "I'm not understanding and patient like Lacus, and children are a huge toll on energy and time! You can't say I'm wrong!"

She had arranged herself into his arms and was cuddling up like a child, seeking some form of reassurance and comfort, and he found himself feeling more comfortable and cosy than he had in a long time. He sighed; enjoying the warmth even though he had thought once that no place in the world would ever be a place he would want to be after his mother had died.

"Yes," Athrun agreed, not bothering to argue with her otherwise because he knew what she had said was entirely true about the children being energy and time guzzlers, but he was strongly of the opinion that Cagalli Yula Atha would be a completely different person if children were involved, "But it's worth it if I'm here, isn't it?"

She looked at him and scowled a little, and then she snapped, "How am I supposed to answer to that?"

And Athrun grinned in response, because he knew her fears and insecurities about the future would fade in time to come, and then he grabbed her hand and held it tightly near her face so that she saw the ring she had allowed him to put on.

"W-what?" she stammered, blushing involuntarily.

"You don't answer to that," he asserted confidently, bringing his face closer to hers and effectively reminding her that she wouldn't be rid of him so easily now, "You just swallow your doubts and trust me."

"Your ego's the size of Mars," she grumbled, recovering her composure and trying to ignore the fact that her heart was pounding crazily, "It's bloody crazy how you think my world has to revolve around you, Zala. And in case you're still stuck in your sizeable ego, I'm here to remind you that I'm not subject to it because this is the Cosmic Era and not the Victorian Century, not that I approve of men lording it over females anyway. Besides, as much as I hate to use the subject of my authority, I'm of royal birth so I ought to have a higher standing where we're concerned, you commoner you."

He waited for her to finish ranting at him and looked down at the girl nestling and lying comfortably in the crook of his arms he had wrapped protectively behind her neck and across her arms, and saw that she was still scowling at him.

"You're insulting me now?" Athrun retorted in amusement, lifting her hand and touching it briefly to his warm lips, thoroughly enjoying the fact that she looked like a tomato puree because of him, "Commoner eh? What about the "Don't call me Princess, call me Chairman" stint that you maintain?"

She glared even though she was trying with her utmost will not to laugh at the ridiculous things she had said in jest and tried to tug her captured hand away but he didn't let her. So she tried another tactic.

"You're not going to give me an easy time about this, are you?" she said dangerously, narrowing her eyes poisonously at him, not realising that she looked adorable and not threatening like she hoped. If she knew what was going through his mind as he tried not to laugh at her efforts at playing the Gestapo, Cagalli would have dropped it immediately.

"No," he admitted cheerfully, playing with her fingers with his free hand since the other was on her arm as she lay next to him, "But you know everything will be fine if we're together."

And she couldn't argue with him anymore, not when he had so such conviction in their future, and Cagalli grinned while he closed the remaining distance between them, which was admittedly already at its bare minimum when Athrun pulled her hungrily towards him and closed his lips on hers.


	2. Chapter 2

Diclaimer: I do not ownGS/GSD. R&R Please.

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Chapter 2 

"Cagalli!" he called urgently, poking his head in the path of the doorway where he knew she could see him, "Phone call from Lacus!"

All Athrun heard was some dreadful gurgling from the bathroom and he sighed and spoke directly into the mouthpiece where he knew the songstress was giggling like a young child even though she was going to be a mother after being married to his best friend for about a year.

"I'll get her to call you back once she's done with her bath," Athrun said wryly, and Lacus laughed again, a pleasant tinkling sound that made him think of bells and tambourines, and then the line was cut without further ado.

He noticed the apples she had cut for him and left at the table. Brown already, he thought ruefully, oxidation was swift to occur and he had been distracted by the mails his secretary had sent over to him. She obviously didn't care if he was on his honeymoon, work was piling up and he would have to saddle both his work and his wife at one shot. And Cagalli was someone he would prefer to spend all his time on rather than halving the time and giving her only half when she deserved all.

"Cagalli," he called, his voice sonorous over the disruptive noise of the water and her abysmal singing, "Are you coming out soon?"

"What?" she was screeching now, pausing her shower-singing which he didn't mind but wouldn't want to record and play as music in his car, "Can't hear anything. Repear what you said?"

"I said, are you coming out soon?" he repeated loudly, wondering hwy one earth she didn't bother turning off the tap so he could be heard better.

"Oh," she was saying very loudly but just enough to let her voice loom over the noise the water was making as she rinsed, "I am! But then you've finished your shower already, so it won't matter even if I don't come out until the era's over and done with!"

And Athrun didn't bother trying to speak to her while she took her bath, it was like getting a donkey to resist carrots arranged tantalisingly in front of its very nose, quite hopeless really. But he didn't mind her lack of focus and attention while she showered, in fact, he didn't mind anything at all, and he was suddenly aware that a silly grin had somehow stretched itself over his face and he could do nothing to remove it from being plastered to his features like a leech.

It had been pure coincidence that the room they had checked into was really two rooms, and the hotel staff had been so desperate to make them stay that they had charged him as if it had been one room. Celebrity and its perks, he thought ruefully, it was insane how the world was interested in Cagalli and him like they were all part of the family or something ridiculous like that.

He had been overjoyed when she had agreed to marry him the night when he had made a last-ditch attempt to make her admit she loved him even while the world was ready to pounce on him because he was the key suspect for the ORB-Zala incident a year ago when the beach both of them had been on had been under fire for a misplaced and mistimed explosion.

"I even got my name linked to it," he said aloud in his disgust. There had been investigations, one after another at the time when Cagalli's eyes had been almost sewn shut, and he had been desperate to call her bluff when she had pushed him away and told him to leave her alone. Funny how the wars that he had blown his mobile weapons up in had no link to his name whatsoever. He hadn't wanted to fight in the Second War, but then he had too much to clear up with his dead father's presence lingering all around, and the piloting itself had dragged him into it. Athrun Zala was an ace-pilot for no better reason than the fact that he loved the piloting itself.

So he had a sort of instinctive need to scowl when he heard of the ORB-Zala incident, he had almost had to gamble everything away to win her. But he had succeeded and she was his now. Nobody would take her away, horrid tuneless singing and all that, he thought affectionately as the door of the shower in the conjoined room opened and she sailed out while drying her damp, blonde hair which had curled slightly at its ends.

"You're out," he observed quite needlessly, and she grinned and strode over from her room into his and arranged herself on the edge of his bed. He had finished his bath much earlier even though they had started bathing at the same time; she took her own sweet time in showering whereas he was swift to finish up.

"It's a blessing they gave us two rooms," she noted thoughtfully, "Makes it easier since we don't have to fight for the order of who gets a bath first."

"True," he agreed, stretching slightly and helping himself to a slice of apple, "And the door's good if I don't want to be distracted from work by your shower performances."

She mock-glared at him but gave up and snorted, it didn't bother her that Athrun thought her singing was horrid, that was part of the fun, wasn't it?

"Who called?" she asked curiously, standing up to fetch her slippers and wrapping her towel around her neck as she would a scarf.

And Athrun snorted, wondering if she honestly couldn't hear anything from the bathroom or preferred to not listen because she didn't want her bath to be disrupted by anything.

"Lacus," he answered promptly, "She told me to get you to call her, so you go ahead and I'll finish up the work and we can have the rest of the day to ourselves."

Cagalli looked at the plate of apples and frowned a little. They had browned, so he had been busy before that, and she clucked sympathetically at him and moved languidly to the telephone and dialled a number she had memorised by heart.

"I want to speak to Lacus please," she said clearly, seeing Athrun smile from the corner of his eye as he bent over to type his work out. They didn't give him any peace, but then neither did her office, she thought morosely, she'd be a saint if she said she didn't mind either of them having work to do while on honeymoon, but being chairman of a country and important security organisation respectively meant some things came with work attached.

"Wait," her brother was saying amusedly, knowing better than to ask about why she was calling, and Cagalli tapped her fingers against the wood of the desk patiently, glancing over at Athrun and seeing that he was already immersed in his work.

A second later, Lacus was saying brightly, "How's the honeymoon?"

"How's the honeymoon?" she repeated dumbly, "You mean you made me give an expensive long-distance call from Berlin to PLANT just to ask me that?"

A giggle was heard from the other end and Cagalli snorted.

"You might as well make use of the phone call you've already made, which I'm sure the hotel will pay for as a complimentary gift even you don't request for it," Lacus was cajoling merrily, "Answe my question and tell me now, won't you?"

"Good enough," Cagalli managed to say even thought she was tempted to shout down the line, "Bloody brilliant!" and Lacus was clucking her tongue and saying testily, "Just like that? Good enough? No expletives, nothing?"

"You know what I mean," she retorted, fighting to keep the blush from conquering her cheeks, "And how's the baby?"

She was aware Athrun was standing up in a graceful and fluid motion, and then he put down his pen and in an instant, was circling his arms around her but she ignored him and pointedly listened to Lacus saying sweetly, "Kira says Leon kicked, but I have a sneaking suspicion that Kira's lying. I didn't feel it at all, but Kira says he heard the baby kick."

"Then he's lying," Cagalli asserted confidently, arching her neck the opposite direction from Athrun's lips because she didn't want to get distracted while she was trying to milk the money she was spending on the call for all she could, "I've never heard of people who can hear babies kick, I only heard of people who felt babies kick. There's a difference, you know. And besides, if you didn't feel anything, what's it with Kira to say he did?"

"Precisely," Lacus was chuckling, "But he swears he did. In any case, I keep trying to put music on the record for the baby to listen to, the doctors say it's splendid for development and training the baby to be musical and all that. Kira agreed and he said he'd put the recods on the second I fell asleep, but the tapes he got were full of his assistant's voices, droning on and on for his sake and all that."

Cagalli briefly noted that she was finding it a chore to breathe with Athrun's arms winding around her tightly and she managed to regain her composure and say steadily into the phone, "Assistant's voice? You mean he recorded his colleague's voices for the baby to listen to?"

"Yes," Lacus said mirthlessly, "He got them to recite equations and names of some engineering device I was clueless about. And he had the cheek to make sure I was asleep before he played it throughout the whole night so I wouldn't know that Leon was listening to mathematical equations and not Mozart. Kira says we could settle on an agreement and go for Prokhoviev since the composer used Mathematics to compose music, but I'm not too fond of the jarring chords and everything."

She managed to laugh at what Lacus was saying even though she was trembling involuntarily and trying to sound like she was holding a normal conversation without Athrun distracting her, and she tried to glare at him silently while Lacus chattered on and on even though Cagalli wanted to respond to him instead of keeping Lacus entertained.

"Ah the baby kicked me!" Lacus was saying in surprise at the other end.

"That's wonderful," Cagalli tried to say nervously while half of her lips were being tugged by his own in a strange kiss, "Is it painful?"

"I don't know," Lacus responded in an airy voice, "It's queer, more a sensation than anything else, but it's not painful."

"Good," she said in relief, not because Lacus wasn't in pain, but because Athrun had decided to leave her lips alone for a rare moment, "Make sure you get the doctor's advice every single month, and keep me informed of everything."

"Say you have to go now," he was whispering, and she shivered as his breath tickled her ear mercilessly, and she pushed him roughly, but not excessively and said desperately, "And eat well, you need to get the baby healthy."

He had came back and had attached himself, limpet-like to her, and he was tormenting her even more than ever and she fought to keep her control as Lacus laughed sweetly at the other end and replied mildly, "I will, you know I will. At least Kira will force me too."

"He will," she gasped, trying to shake away the tingle of heat as he kissed her neck, damn him, "And-and,"

"Are you alright?" Lacus was asking concernedly, "You sound like you're a little out of breath, are you ill or something?"

"No," she stammered, trying to struggle free form his arms but failing entirely, "Just felt like sneezing," and then she gasped as he plucked the phone away and kissed her while she muffled into the phone, "Honestly, I don't know what's coming over me."

"Poor dear," Lacus murmured very sympathetically, bless that girl, "You have to even bother with tissues while you're speaking to me. I can hear the muffled voice and the nasal sounds, don't worry, it doesn't sound too serious. Just rest well and don't get too near to Athrun too much, he'll get the bug too."

"Heard that?" she mouthed furiously at him while trying to tug his hands away from her, and then she said aloud, cursing the lies she was telling to her best friend, "I'll do as you say, Lacus, and-,"

"And?" Lacus prompted, but Cagalli couldn't answer because he was fiddling with the string around her neck and taking his own sweet time to tickle the fine hairs of her neck with his warm breath, and she choked terribly and half-shouted down the phone in her haste, "I've got to go now, see you, see you take care, bye!"

And she slammed down the phone without waiting for Lacus' reply, her face as red as a lobster and she spun as best as she could while still being locked in his arms. Then Cagalli tried to put her hands on her hips in an effort to look intimidating, but she failed because his hips were joined to hers in the embrace, and then she hissed angrily, "You have the cheek to do that while I'm talking to Lacus!"

"I do," he echoed bemusedly, noting her terribly flushed cheeks and the way she was struggling against him but only half-heartedly.

"And you dare admit it like that," she ranted, her eyes narrow slits and her chin obstinately forward.

"I just did," Athrun pressed on carelessly, playing with the shell tied securely around her lovely neck, and ignoring the look on her face that suggested she was going to blow up.

"You did it just to make me pissed, didn't you?" she cried, attempting to get out of his way and promptly moving away from him and the desk the telephone had been placed on, but then Athrun clucked his tongue and shook his head slightly, pulling her along and capturing her again and caressing her cheek lazily.

"Go on, admite it," she hissed, irritated beyond doubt, "You jut wanted to have your bit of fun and make Lacus think that I was insane, didn't you, Athrun Zala?"

He grunted noncommittally because it was true and also because he had buried his face near her neck and was breathing in her exquisite scent, and she sighed resignedly and shoved him away slightly, then she moved swiftly to the clothes rack and pulled a scarf from it.

"Where are you going?" he questioned briefly, leaning against the desk and idly arranging his completed paperwork and shutting it securely.

Cagalli turned and looked at him, titling her head lightly and grinning, then she chuckled, "You had plans to go out, didn't you? Why am I the one who has to remind you of those now?"

"Ah, those," he said distractedly, watching her spin back to face a mirror and to tie her scarf around her neck, "I guess we can go now then."

Then he watched her sigh in resignation and she tugged the scarf around tighter and wind it a double time around her neck.

"Why are you trying it so tightly," he asked in amusement, although inside, he knew exactly why she was doing exactly what she did but he still pressed on persistently, trying to test the waters.

Snorting, she finished up the arranging of the woollen strip and fetched his scarf.proceeding to throw it over to him across the room, and she stated in a matter-of-factly tone, "In case you didn't notice, my neck has marks the size of tattoos because of you."

"I see," he said noncommittally and his lips twitched, but she saw him doing that and scowled, then she launched herself at him, but he caught her and said softly, his green eyes suddenly pools of liquid emerald, "Feisty aren't we?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," she cried crossly, "Let's just get out of here now before I get a knife and stab you or something because you're being such an insufferable donkey!"

But her words were empty threats and he pulled her to him and kissed her fiercely, thanking everything that had allowed him to win Cagalli Yula Atha, the last member of the Atha House over to his side. He would keep her there now, she wouldn't be allowed to go and leave him behind anymore.

So they spent the rest of the day wandering around town and keeping an eye out for snow, but the temperatures, while low, weren't exactly sub-zero that would allow snow to fall. Athrun wasn't fond of snow in particular, he preferred autumn because the colours were more stunning that anything in other season, but then Cagalli had bet with him that it wouldn't snow just for the heck of it and he had offered high stakes if he lost the bet. But that was because she had offered high stakes he was keen on winning in the first place, and he was desperate for snow to fall.

They had been discussing how their weekends would be spent after the honeymoon, and although she was prepared to give only Sundays to him and Saturdays for the Cabinet, he wasn't. And they hadn't been able to reach a resolution at all, but then Cagalli had been so frustrated that he had bet with her that if it snowed, she would have to agree to follow what he said.And she had a better chance of winning in reality, he thought wryly, he had checked the forecast and snow wasn't on the agenda. But that ddn't mean he couldn't keep his hopes up.

But it remained stubbornly cold and with no snow at all, not even a miserable snowflake he had been prepared to use as proof that he had won the wager.

Cagalli was leaning against the old, weathered wood of the stiles very causally, and she closed her eyes and lifted them slowly to the grey wintry skies. He stood at her side silently, unwilling to lean in the unconcerned, causal manner as she did. The other comrades had once teased Athrun for carrying himself too seriously even in ZAFT, a volunteer army where the protocol was less strict than expected, but they hadn't understood that Athrun had been that way since he had seen his mother die with the rest of Junius Seven. But Cagalli did, and she never blamed him or said anything, and he was grateful for that. He didn't need to say anything to tell her that though, words were unnecessary, more a hindrance than help, and she never needed words to tell him she accepted him fro who he was.

"I suppose Leon will have brown hair like Kira's," she said softly, almost like an after-thought, but he caught it well while they stood somewhere as part of a perimeter around the empty field of grass, the cold wind blowing slightly and not a single flock of cattle in sight.

'What the hell were they doing here when even all the cattle were all in their own warm homes?' he thought dryly, but he didn't mind that they had bothered to venture to a place where she could be at peace with nobody to be near her but him.

"What else did you expect?" he said aloud and very amusedly, "I recall Lacus having pink hair only because of a genetic modification, nobody in the Clyne House had pink hair, and your mother had brown hair that was passed onto Kira wasn't it? Obviously that gene's more dominant and will be where the child is concerned. It'd be terrible if the boy had pink hair, I can't imagine the other children thinking it as a start of a trend they'd want to follow even in PLANT where olive-coloured hair is surprisingly common. "

"Yes," she said, half in assent, but the other half was still lost in thought, "I didn't know my hair came from Ulen Hibiki though, I thought it came from my father's past lover although I never realised that they hadn't even married until I was fourteen."

"You mean you thought another person was your mother and you never suspected she wasn't?" Athrun questioned curiously, moving closer and staring at her beautiful face, its features softened by memories and a bit of pain that she failed to conceal without leaving a trace of bitterness in her eyes.

She nodded slightly, not bothering to move nearer to him for comfort, believing that the old wounds were already healed by his very presence. She didn't want him to move nearer either, she was afraid she would drop her facade and start bawling uncontrollably. Cagalli had been homeschooled not just because her safety was important with her status as the heir of the Atha House. Kisaka had helped her father make that decision when she had came home one day, dirty and muddied from fighting with some classmates who had jeered and taunted that she was not really Uzumi Nara Athat's child. The bruises and ruined clothes hadn't affected their decision, but it had been her hot, angry tears although she tried to hide them even when she was five.

Looking down at her feet, she continued softly, "I found a picture of a very pretty blond woman with my father, taken quite a long time ago I suppose, when I was rifling through his things when I was a child, and I thought my mother had died and I couldn't remember when or how she had, but I didn't dare ask. My father never brought anyone else back, so I didn't see a need- to question him. But then when I was fourteen, I decided that I had a right to know what was what, I asked Kisaka about her and he said she had left my father when he had became the Supreme Commander of ORB, and that I wasn't her child nor his either."

"Oh," he said quietly, and Athrun saw that her eyes had dimmed a little with tears she was trying to suppress, and he pulled her over to him, smiling slightly when he head Cagalli mutter, "It's nothing, just some dust in my eye. Nothing to worry about at all. You know I'm not affected by things like that, it won't make me affected."

"I know," he repeated, mutely absorbing her warmth and feeling an intense love and some agony rise in his chest which he welcomed as obligingly as the arms that had hesitantly wound themselves around his back, "I know it's nothing to worry about. You're strong; I know that, you won't be hurt easily because you're strong."

And Athrun wielded her to him and murmured nonsense that was borne out of his need to protect her, then she was still and her embrace was tight while they stood there, isolated from the rest of the world, victims of their own circumstances while the heavens watched silently.

She buried her face in his chest, marvelling at the feeling of soft flesh encasing the firm muscles and let him stroke her head gently while she choked back, "I am."

And the first snow of the winter began to fall from above.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I don't own GS/GSD. Please R&R, make my day, so go on.

* * *

Chapter 3 

Whatever happened had been four months ago. It was over and done with, and the soldiers were waiting for him to visit the camp again.

With a sigh, he moved into the car with a bit of drowsiness still attached to him, but in a few minutes, it would clear. Athrun had woken up half an hour earlier just to get ready, and it had pained him physically and emotionally to leave her there while he had to get down to business. But it didn't matter because Cagalli would wake and start the morning meeting in a matter of an hour's time.

And they were tied to their work as tightly as before, but somehow, they always found time to be together. More often than not, they ended up arguing, but it was the playful, cheerful sort of disputes that they chose to talk about, and Cagalli would persist long after he wanted to give up, because at work, she had been trained to argue until the ministers all unanimously supported her decision and gave their utmost cooperation to her. And so he was in the same position as them where Cagalli was concerned.

She was starting to settle down, he thought distractedly passing a road that would have led straight into the remains of a beach where they had last left it, but her temper was as quick as ever and her eyes would flash fire even when she wasn't particularly upset or angry about anything. It was her character to be passionate about everything, whatever a normal person felt or did; she did it with zeal and heart with three-fold the normal expectation. And that had been the exact reason why Athrun had been determined to win her at all costs and prevent her from becoming a stranger with very little light in her amber eyes left.

Cagalli Yula Atha was difficult to control, a wild horse and reckless, and fury would whip in her face and bewitch him entirely. But she had lost a little of the recklessness quite inevitable with her coming of age, and he accepted that she had mellowed for and because of him.

It was terrible trying to handle both her and work at the same time, because she was ORB, and ORB was her. He exhaled deeply, opening the car windows so the morning breeze would cool the interior a bit as the vehicle sped towards the area the ministers had allocated to the ZAFT soldiers stationed there.

"You realise don't you," she had said wistfully a while ago, "That if this arrangement doesn't work out, ZAFT will be moved out of ORB and you will be recalled back to PLANT which you were originally stationed at?"

"It will work out," Athrun had cut in confidently, gazing at Cagalli and searching her face to look for traces of worry which he eventually found, "But even if it doesn't, what makes you think I have to leave?"

She snorted and rolled on her back and threw some papers up in the air, watching them glide down like wings, and he waited patiently for her to respond.

Cagalli looked at him from the corner of her eyes and offered softly, "You're the chairman of PLANT's ETERNITY, and a year ago, you were allowed to come here because of the agreement ORB made with PLANT cornering ZAFT and the bilateral defence system we agreed to test and carry out. If ZAFT goes, logically, so will you."

"That's different," he said seriously, "That was before the PLANT Supreme Council knew that I was going to marry you and I don't suppose they'll make me leave ORB where you are even if ZAFT does."

"Are you sure?" she questioned, doubt flickering in her eyes, and he nodded and said with conviction surging through his voice, "They wouldn't be so merciless as to keep us apart, would they? Besides, if I do leave for PLANT in the worst case scenario if the exercise isn't carried out well enough for it o be sustained for the next few years, then it will only be a period of time to sort things out I suppose, then I'll probably be allowed to return to ORB to be with you."

"B-but," she had tried to say, and Athrun had smiled and cut her off, saying briefly, "And we're going off tangent too much, we can't assume the exercise won't go well."

And Cagalli had stared at him with her eyes wide with surprise, and a bit disconcerted, he had asked, "Why are you looking at me like that?"

She began to laugh helplessly and she rolled back on her side to face him and then she nuzzled against him, appreciating the warmth he returned to her and remarked offhandedly, "You've become more of an optimist than I ever expected you, or myself, to be, in fact."

"That's true," he admitted quite readily, "But being desperate for this to work can make miracles happen in a very short period of time."

Now he got out of the car, recalling the conversation she had held with him a while ago, and he squinted slightly and saw that the troops were assembling for their training and Athrun sighed and strode forward. He noted from the corner of his eye, that some were pausing and standing at attention to salute him and he did the same. Business was business, work was work, Cagalli was, Cagalli was another issue altogether.

Athrun simply couldn't steal time away to gaze at her while she was curled up into a ball under the covers no matter how much he wanted to stay there forever; it wasn't fair to shirk his duties. But he wished that he could, every, single, hour of every single day when he tore himself away and left. And when he left to get home, he was aware that he would try to hurry while maintaining the calm, composed façade he was meant to keep up for work's sake.

Back at the office, Cagalli moved through the doors of the office and tried not to feel nauseous when she looked at the pile of work waiting for her. If she played her cards right and managed her time, she would return in time to try and make something for dinner and not have excess to unload back at home with Athrun to balance as well. He wasn't a selfish lover, he was far too generous and gave so much, demanding so little, and that made her more gulty than ever.

So she stared at the pile in a pregnant form of silence and knew that Kisaka was shaking his head a little form the corner of her eye.

"Not too much, I hope," Kisaka was saying offhandedly and quite sympathetically, and Cagalli shook her head and grinned ruefully, then she sat down and proceeded to chop her way through the pile the way she would have done like it was an almost-impenetratable forest.

At noon, she took a break and checked her personal mailbox where Kira had proudly sent a few pictures of Lacus. She was five months pregnant and her stomach had started swelling significantly, but Lacus looked radiant, and to Cagalli, she had probably never looked more beautiful.

Sighing, she flipped over the letters that had came attached to them and sieved out some information here and there. They were going to name the child Leon after Athrun's mother, and she smiled gently and imagined a child with Kira's brow hair and possibly, violet eyes. With any luck, she would have a nephew the spitting image of his father, and if Kira didn't spoil his son too much, Cagalli would try to. Athrun had agreed that Leon would surely turn out to be a gifted child, either way it went, or possibly both, if Mozart and Mathematics were to be played during Lacus' naps everyday.

The week after their honeymoon, Cagalli had gotten home into her house, technically it belonged only to her since her father had left it for her and Athrun didn't have anything to do with the piece of property they lived on. But he didn't seem to mind, he had produced a piece of document for her to sign one day and she had thought it was some signature required for acceptance of the ORB/PLANT military exercise she had already signed, so she waved him away impatiently. And then he had smiled enigmatically and then she had signed it and seen that it was a house deed he had obtained in his name but under both their ownership in PLANT.

"Who's going to live there then?" Cagalli had demanded while he folded the deed up nicely and placed it carefully into his briefcase, and then he had smiled that same smile and replied, "The owners are prepared to hand over the property if we want to go there."

And no matter how she egged him on to reveal more, his lips were firmly pressed together and Cagalli had secretly sent Kisaka to find out more about the property's name she had caught a glimpse of.

Eventually she had found out that the house was really his from the start, left behind by his parents, and that he had bequeathed it to her when it was really his to own.

That evening, she had found him dozing in an armchair in the house, tied out from all the word of the day, and she had tried to creep past him and not disturb his sleep, but then he had stirred and awoken, then saw her and smiled softly, and Cagalli had crossed the distance in a few bounds and leapt at him, and then he caught her effortlessly and she had whispered, fighting back some prickling of tears behind her eyes which were there for no reason at all, "You fool."

And his next words, so quiet and serious, were almost lost in the crackling of the fire, but Cagalli had heard Athrun murmur, "I don't mind being one."

Now as she was going to sink into her reverie, Kisaka appeared almost magically out of nowhere and said urgently, "We've got a problem. There's been a fight that broke out in a school, and the principal refuses to say anything s of yet, but she requests to meet someone from the government who can speak directly to you. It doesn't seem like an ordinary, run-of-the-mill, childish dispute to me."

"Neither does it sound that way to me," she replied instantly, standing up quickly and ruefully thinking that her break was being cut short, but she didn't mind, she would have spent the rest of the time gazing with glazed eyes out of the window in any case.

"Where is the principal?" she demanded shortly, throwing on her jacket and brushing some lint off her skirt, "I might as well she the principal myself. Something tells me things aren't as simple as two children fighting over some sweets."

"No," Kisaka agreed, and she briefly thought how burly he looked standing next to the footstool at the side, it was like putting a rabbit next to a giraffe, really, and she shook her head from all the strange thoughts and hurried out.

Along the way, Cagalli thought for a split second that she had seen Vino Dupre waiting at the staircase of the extensive parliament office, and then she saw that it was really him and knew Rainie would be around somewhere, but she had to force herself to hurry by them and move to the waiting lounge, allowing herself only a brief smile and wave that she flashed at the two.

The principal was waiting by the side, and he stood up and bowed very respectfully, and she did likewise but quickly butted in by saying warmly, "Please skip the formalities, Mr-?"

"I'm Harold Smithers," the strapping man with dark brown, almost black hair said quickly, "And I didn't except that the chairman herself would address this matter."

"No worry about it," she said instantly, gesturing for him to sit, and then she settled herself across him and gazed intently at the principal, "What is it about the dispute between children that caused such worry?"

"I'll have to start at the beginning," Smithers was saying somewhat apologetically, but Cagalli shook her head and gestured fro him to do so, and the man said, suddenly curtly, "There were two children who started beating each other during a class. One was a Natural, born in ORB, and the other was a ZAFT soldier's child who came over here with his parents."

"The military exercise," she breathed, her chest suddenly constricted and very tight, and when he nodded grimly, her heart plummeted towards her stomach, but Cagalli closed her eyes, reopened them and forced herself to refocus at the topic at hand.

"It's been almost a year and a half since it started," she continued steadily, thinking fast and thinking very nard, "And there haven't been issues like this so far in the camps. Could it be that this particular fight was a petty one with two children who happened to be from different backgrounds that puts some question and strain onto the decision made before?"

"Possibly," Smithers replied absently, running a hand through his dark hair which reminded her of Shiho Hahenfuss' for some odd reason, "But the outrage it started sparking off tends to suggest otherwise."

"Elaborate," she ordered, feeling disconcerted and terribly at the edge of things, and Smithers looked straight at her, a good sign, really, and then he said bluntly, "If you don't mind me saying this, Chairman, the school's in an entire fiasco after this incident broke out. The ZAFT soldier's child, a girl, was answering a question in class, and apparently, the teacher called on her because she wasn't paying attention, o of course she got the question wrong."

And pausing for breath, he continued quickly, keen to get the weight off his shoulders, quite forgetting that the weight he was transferring them to were able, strong shoulders, no doubt of that, but young shoulders all the same.

"Then the other child, a boy, jeered at her and said that the ZAFT Coordinators were obviously more stupid than any other coordinators, and then some other ORB Coordinators joined in the teasing and hurled unkind comments at her. The teacher would have stopped them, but the girl was so upset that she launched herself straight at them and hit one of the boys at his jaw, and he pushed her in self-defence and she fell backwards and struck her head quite badly. Then the other ZAFT Coordinators' children rushed in to protect her, and you can imagine what happened after that.

The teacher had to call for help from other classes, and everybody got to see the fiasco they were creating and worse still, some teachers pulled the children apart and took sides with the children. Of course it was hushed down and the children were made to apologise, but this incident won't be forgotten so quickly. And some parents have found out about it from their children, and quite inevitably other parents of other schools know this as well, and now they're asking question whether their children are safe in school with ZAFT Coordinator children around as intruders in the already determined balance of Naturals and Coordinators in the schools."

She had been listening in grim silence, but his last sentence caused Cagalli to sit up straighter and breathe in terrible realisation of the situation.

"My word, that's-," she breathed, her eyes wide and her lips parted in horror.

"Exactly what the Second War was about," Smithers confirmed mirthlessly, "I was unsettled by the whole issue and couldn't approach it in a way that wouldn't offend either side, so I decided to seek help from the government itself."

"Thank you," Cagalli replied numbly, "For letting this not go unnoticed, I will hold a meeting and see if my decision holds water."

"No," the man said abruptly, standing up to shake her hand," Thank you for handling this so personally. Another reason why I brought this issue all the way up here was due to personal reasons, those of which might make it seem biased if I chose to handle the situation myself."

And Cagalli looked at the man and felt a pang of pity, and she asked hesitantly, afraid to learnt the truth "Forgive my intrusion into your privacy, but is someone you know part of the ZAFT troops there are stationed here?"

"Yes," he said very softly, and there was worry in his eyes, "My fiancé."

And she felt something in her heart soften, and the man in front of her saw that her eyes were sad, and he half-regretted putting weight onto her shoulders, shoulders that were possibly younger than his even. But she looked straight at him and promised softly, her eyes determined, "I'll get this solved, I promise you that."

She turned to leave and her heart was heavy, because Cagalli knew Athrun would find out about it soon enough even if she chose not to tell him. And what would she say to him?

For the rest of the day, she considered a few lines of actions and drew up some non-concrete plans which she decided to discuss with her ministers the very next day, and with a sigh, she tugged her jacket off roughly and flung it into a sofa. He wasn't back yet, he wouldn't be for another hour or so.

The newspapers were avoided in their house, because it reminded them of work which both of them neither desired nor required, and so she ignored the pile sitting neatly by the door where the service-people would slid it under each morning. But a photograph of Lacus caught her eye, but then nothing would if the pink of her hair didn't, and she grinned and allowed herself to pick up the papers slowly, gazing at the beautiful girl with her blue eyes and angelic features.

It was short interview, no more than five questions which Lacus had agreed to do,but then the company was smart, they knew an article on PLANT's mediator and idol would sell their newspapers like hotcakes, and the article had been in the very next page while the photograph of her was splashed on the front cover.

Crossing over to the fireplace, Cagalli lit the fire, enjoying the warmth she was washed in. ORB was becoming chillier, bit by bit, and even though there was electrical heating, she still preferred a fire and the orange glow it bathed the room in.

As usual, Lacus was photographed in such a manner one could not think to describe as anything but flawless. She was positively glowing, and her white skin was almost milky in texture, her maternity dress showing her stomach, rounded like a melon, but oh, the beam on her face, it would melt any woman or man's heart. Lacus, her heart-shaped face with its soft edges, was alight with an inexplicable beauty, her long, luxurious hair swept to the side in a careless yet creaseless manner that Cagalli was slightly envious of, and her hands slim and white, were placed neatly in her lap. Overall, Lacus made an exquisite picture of a woman at the pinnacle of her life.

"Nice isn't it," his voice said dryly over her shoulder, and Cagalli, startled terribly, jumped up from her stationary position and settled down almost instantly when she realised that Athrun was home.

"You're back," she murmured a bit needlessly, and then she proceeded to continue looking at the picture of Lacus printed on the papers.

"I am," Athrun replied gently, "And I thought you would have heard me coming in, but I found you absorbed in this, so that explains it rather well. Lacus takes a nice picture, that's certain."

He glanced towards the fireplace and threw in a piece of wood effortlessly, and the flames crackled and rose higher than ever.

"She does," Cagalli interrupted eagerly, nodding vigorously in her enthusiasm, "And she looks glorious, this picture does her and the baby justice. Kira will probably frame this picture or something and put it around in their house."

"He might," Athrun noted briefly, scanning over the page and seeing exactly what Cagalli had meant by 'glorious', there was no doubt about the serene, peaceful smile in Lacus' very eyes, "And we could do the same if you want, get a portrait to hang up or something like that for memory's sake."

She looked absently at him, but he wasn't looking at her, he was still standing form behind, peering over her shoulder to get a better look at the article, his features a light with a certain extent of interest.

And Cagalli knew he kept photographs of people here and there, some of his friends in ZAFT, although she wasn't quite sure how many of them were alive now, and one of his mother, none of his father, and one of Kira and him laughing and smiling at the camera, and there was one he had taken with Lacus, a formal one, probably in preparation or memoriam of their engagement when it had still held true, and a few of those Cagalli had taken with him during their wedding.

Once, she had asked him why he collected those photographs and kept them so carefully, and Athrun had smiled and said it was almost inborn in every house of standing where PLANT was concerned. Every house, the Zala House inclusive too, had portraits of the heirs and their spouses and subsequently the children, and most houses had their portraits taken when they were three, and thirteen, then when they married. And Athrun had looked directly at her with his emerald eyes she had shied away from at that instant and said softly, "And the women are taken when they are halfway into their pregnancy as part of a tradition."

It was true, she reflected, she had asked Lacus whether it was true for all Houses in PLANT, and Lacus had said it was, although the first and last portrait of her own mother had been destroyed when she had died in childbirth.

"Athrun," Cagalli asked softly, watching him direct his eyes from the words to her slowly and searchingly, a question poised in them, "Why do you take photographs that are not portraits?"

He paused a little and straightened up, then he moved languidly in an arc around her and rested gracefully in the chair in front of her, and the fire was lighting up his features, illuminating the side of his face and casting mysterious shadows on the other side.

"Portraits are there for records and tradition's sake," he explained briefly, "But I don't want records, I want proof of memories."

Cagalli was silent, and the newspaper lay forgotten in her lap. Glancing at him, she said softly, "You know, I've seen the picture we took for the wedding, but I haven't seen a picture of us as a memory."

He closed his eyes briefly and then he stood up and went off somewhere and returned so quickly, she could barely realise that he had gone off to fetch something. And she looked up questioningly this time at him as he laid a folder in her lap and returned to his original resting position and smiled.

"I've been waiting for you to realise that," he said seriously enough, but she saw a teasing glint in his eyes and hesitantly poured the contents of the folder out.

And she saw pictures, no, memories of their wedding and something flooded in her mind and she realised through her incoherence and numbness, that it was joy.

"Those were taken by Kira," he said softly, pointing at the one she held, and her eyes were directed to herself, her hand taken by Athrun and running towards something in the distance, the flowers carelessly held behind her and the happiness in both their faces. And there was one where she was glaring at him with the veil already removed over her face, and she realised with a bit of a pang, that she had thrown it off herself in her flustered state when Athrun had requested for the minister to cut the ceremony short. And she saw that his expression was bemused but his eyes were very warm and gentle.

"This one here," she said quietly, lifting up a single picture with her fingertips and staring hard into it, "Who took it?"

"I did," he replied without a trace of hesitation, "I'm surprised you didn't realise how many pictures you didn't see of your own wedding that weren't taken for the sake of public relations and all that."

The flames in the fireplace flickered a little, and she saw a tiny spark jump hopefully up before it was mercilessly crushed by something invisible until it was rendered unseen by itself.

She gazed at the image of herself in the creamy white-green gown, her head lolling against the car seat and her eyes closed. She bore no smile in her sleep whatsoever and her lips were slightly parted, but there was something incredibly placid and peaceful about her face, and her hands, they were entwined with something she recognised immediately as one of Athrun's own, and he must have used his other hand to take the photograph of her sleeping, worn out from the excitement of the wedding and the preparations that had gone into it.

"Why did you take a photograph like that?" she asked, bewildered, simultaneously pleased at the image but disconcerted by the fact that he had captured her in her most vulnerable state, "It probably can't be used for newspapers nor a portrait."

"I told you already," Athrun said patiently, "I don't want records, I want memories."

And he stood up, towering over her and casting an elongated shadow over her, and she gazed up at him pitifully, wondering how she ought and if she ought to break the news to him, but all thoughts were lost as he bent down and captured her lips with his own and she surrendered, illuminated against the fire that was all-consuming.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I don't own GS/GSD. Please R&R!

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Chapter 4 

She was shifting uncomfortably in her seat, trying to drink her coffee without feeling guilty and eat her food without succumbing to the urge to spit it right out on the plate because of her anxiousness.

"It's uncommon for you to wake up before me and make breakfast," Athrun was saying in a matter-of-factly voice, lifintg up his own cup and taking a few sips.Then he calmly set it down, his long, graceful fingers poised and well-placed, and he looked at, no through her, and she was more upset and jumpy than before.

"I just woke up earlier this time," Cagalli interrupted hastily, her eyes trailing down to a random spot on the breakfast table, trying determinedly not to look at him. He was impeccably dressed for work as usual, suit, jacket that was lying behind him settled on the cahir currently, white, freshly-ironed crips shirt and well pressed pants. She however, was sloppily dressed in a ratty old shirt and shorts she had thrown on in the morning, her blonde hair uncombed, but that didn't matter for now, she would get prepared to go for work as per her usual time, so she had a whileto laze around in a terribly unkempt state. She was aware of her state, but she wasn't aware, however that she looked terribly lovely still, bedraggled but strangely fetching all at once. But Athrun knew, and he looked at her with appreciative eyes, bemusedly noting that she was picking a bit of food here and there like a canary, unwilling to eat in front of others.

"That is if you even slept well at all," he replied wryly, fetching a butter knife and buttering absently at a piece of toast, "You tossed and turned so much, I thought I was at sea."

"You weren't," she glowered at him, quite irritated by the fact that he could sleep so soundly when she couldn't, and feeling even more guilty that shedidn't know how to tell him of the new problems that ahd arisen at work, "And it's mostly your fault that I couldn't sleep."

He rasied a cynical eyebrow at her as if to remind her of something, and then she immediately regretted what she had said and coloured, her face pink with embarrassment and when she spoke, her voice was rich with guilt, "Alright, sorry, I was just being snappish there."

"No matter," Athrun said unconcernedly, because he liked her better that way, "I was just wondering if there was something you wanted to tell me before I leave for work this morning."

"Yes," she said eagerly, then Cagalli paused, thinking better of the situation and then she hesitantly said, "I mean, no. There's nothing."

Athrun didn't press on even though his eyes were questioning, and he simply handed her the buttered toast and instructed, "Eat this and when we're done, I'll set off."

"Oh, you're being such a right old crusty soldier now, presenting me breakfast like this," Cagalli laughed, watching his poker-straight expression as he passed it over with as much as authority as he would if it were a graduating certificate, "You should be wearing your white uniform now, not this suit."

"I will be later in the day," he reminded her lightly, "But I hate doing my paperwork in the office with such a stiff uniform, I can't slouch or anything to think, much less relax."

That's true," she said thoughtfully,"And it's not that the material is so stiff that you can't do your slouching, it's more of the fact that you're in an official uniform and see an obligation not to slouch, no?"

"Right," he confirmed with a slight nod, looking at her and thinking how fetching she looked with her tousled hair and thoughtful amber eyes, "It all goes back to the being in ZAFT once."

"No," she chuckled, her voice warm like honey, "It goes back to the fact that you're Athrun Zala."

She stood up, gathering some dishes with both hands and the empty cups, and moved to the kitchen where she deposited them in the sink,but when she turned around,he was standing squarely behind her with a serious expression in his eyes but a very soft smile playing on his lips,and he pressed her a bit roughly against the counter and proceeded to say in a secretive sort of way she neither liked nor disliked, "Aren't you going to kiss me before I go off for work?"

"No," Cagalli snorted, ignoring the prickling sensation beneath her soft cheeks, "If I didn't wake up this early, then you would have left as per normal and I would have been asleep at this time as usual. Since when do you need something like that to get to work?"

"Since now," he replied without hesitation, and he spotted the pink finally blossoming from under her cheeks, and laid a hand softly against a bare shoulder where the collar was loose on one side.

"I need to discuss something with you-," she began helplessly, puttig her hands on his shoulders as Athrun bent forward, still crushing her against the couner with his hips, "I think it's urgent-,"

"No,"he said swiftly, "It isn't as much as this."

And he cut her off with a demanding kiss that rendered both of them speechless, until she had to slap against his shoulders where her hands had been rooted there for the last couple of minutes and half-sobbed, half-laughed breathlessly, "You're going to be late."

"Duty calls," he repeated obediently, and he stepped away and she could breathe normally again, then Athrun fetched his jacket and suitcase and pulled her towards the door with him.

"Sorry about that," he apologised ruefully, "I couldn't resist, and perhaps you could tell me what you were about to say when we both get home this evening."

And she found herself smiling and waving a bit as he opened the door and strode purposefully to it, and Cagalli stood at the doorway, and then she replied weakly, "Nothing too urgent, I'll see you this evening as usual."

He flashed her a brilliant smile, his chiselled face with its green eyes made more handsome than ever and in a matter of minutes, he had left,and she was rooted to the doorway, staring out into the distance where she could make out where the church tower was.

And when she finally recovered from her trance, Cagalli moved slowly, painfully, into the huge house, now quiet with only her in it. She passed by the table where the pictures he had given her last night where carelessly strewn all over in random directions and the one that caught her eye was the one of her sleeping form holding tightly onto his hand. Sighing slightly, she picked them up, one by one, and put them neatly into the folder and slid them into a drawer.

Then she got ready for work and for the call to come from the bodyguards that they had arrived. Same old, same old, she thought dully, but this time, the morning's meeting with the ministers would be a particularly volatile one.

By the time she moved into the board room in the parliament house, three quarters of the ministers had already assembled, not because she was late, but because they were always early. Crazy, she thought sourly, quite forgetting that without someone at home in the past, she had been like that too.

Settling into the room almost flawlessly because of the plum coloured Emir suit all of them wore, she was glad that she had chosen not to wear her white uniform. It made coming into a room where everyone was waiting for you easier to do, and she cleared her throat expectantly and the noise died down instantly.

"Good morning," she began confidently, but she knew that there was a tremor in her body as she spoke, "Let's begin."

She heard what each had to say and corrected some decisions and discussed some errors with them, and when the education minister spoke, she listened out particularly attentive to his words, but he brought no news of what she had heard first-hand from the person who had visited yesterday.

"Nothing else to add?" she pressed on insistently when the minister finished.

He stared at her as if she had grown an extra head and said incredulously," No, there's nothing to report whatsoever."

"Have you ran a check on the schools and colleges recently sir?" she said sharply, and there was a murmur that ran throughout the room and tension collected. Some of them had heard, some of them hadn't, and she would make sure that by the time she had finished with them, they would all know exactly what had happened.

"I did," the portly man was saying with some hesitation, "And some things I-,"

"Continue," she said with a brief nod, "Say whatever you were about to say."

"There's been an issue or two," he muttered, "But it's probably some childish little spat that-,"

"That has to do with teachers taking side according to the sides the world itself took that led us to war," she interrupted sharply, and he coloured a very ugly maroon.

"I understand that everyone wants to ignore the warning this might have," Cagalli continued strongly, "because a children's quarrel, is ultimately, a children's quarrel. But if we were to ignore the blisters under the quarrel, I am afraid it will come back to haunt us, not as blisters, but a full blown, incurable disease. I hereby request that all the information about the schools now be taken and laid out, dissected in its every part so that we, as a body and not a single person, can decide the next best course of action."

"Firstly," the minister was saying worriedly, "there lies a possibility that general contempt for coordinators from PLANT will arise. Although the referendum a year and a half ago showed that ninety-seven percent of the citizens welcomed the ZAFT troop's families in every aspect of life, it remains to be seen that they've accepted them and allowed them to integrate completely. There are possibly two reasons for this. The first, we must remember that the ORB coordinators are ORB citizens and the ZAFT coordinators PLANT coordinators. Say what you like, but there are differences. And the second is possibly the more logical reason for the risk of conflict we might see, which is, this is only the first year of the integration. Of course there's a bit of risk here and there, it's in its initial steps isn't it?"

"That's absolutely correct," Cagalli said, taking the lead instantly, "And of course nobody expects the experimental plane to take flight immediately without hiccups. But that is not to say we need not be prepared for the turbulence. I hereby call for plans to make changes in the lives of our citizens such that there is no opportunity for unhappiness and strife to be riled up."

There was an immediate bustle of noise and calls at the table and she waited patiently for them to be quiet once more, half noting that a few had pained expressions in their eyes. And she couldn't' help but to smile slightly. Harold Smithers hadn't been the only one who would be sorry to see the ZAFT coordinator's families forcibly moved out of ORB. The parliament was made up of not ministers, but humans, and like him, like them, she was one too.

Clearing her throat, she began confidently, "I propose that the textbooks be rewritten."

As she expected, there was an immediate uproar at the table, and one shouted, "But that's impossible!"

"Sir," she rebutted, "Why not?"

"If we reveal too much information about the role coordinators played against ORB when ORB allied with the Blue Cosmos and EA, then the rift will be even greater, and the shame of our country borne to our children!" someone else exclaimed.

'Shame?' she thought in pain, 'I'm the one who left ORB to Yuna Roma Seiran for him to rally and take sides and make ZAFT attack us. Coordinator difference between PLANT and ORB? No.The enemy was from within.'

And she was silent, her amber eyes dull with muted anguish, but she controlled it and tried to make herself remember what the current situation was.

"No," she replied very firmly, looking at all of them, one by one, "We need to teach the children the truth. The truth that the country was once besieged because of the failure to unite against strife and conflict and stay united in the face of disputes. Should children be taught that there's no difference between ZAFT coordinators and ORB coordinators in our efforts to always be united, then we will first need to remove the white walls blocking the mistakes we once wanted to hide from the children. The time has come to reveal the truth."

"The working population knows about everything that happened four years ago," one called from the side, "The children can always go ask their parents about it."

"Preciesely," she interrupted, slapping her hand on the table, "And when that time comes when the schools are divided with ORB citizens looking at ZAFT's children with eyes they would place on strangers, there's no doubt that their parents will be inclined to take sides too and make their own unnecessary opinions about how much really different they think ZAFT Coordinators are from ORB citizens. Imagine how terrible the day will be when there are children who go home to ask their parents about the ZAFT attack on ORB four years ago and are given a thousand differing explanations of the attack if the government doesn't take action to teach them the truth first. In the eyes of the people, wouldn't' the government look untruthful then?"

"Whitewashing is necessary so that the existing peace isn't disrupted!" another exclaimed, standing up and slamming her fists on the table.

"Very well madam," Cagalli replied grimly, "Then we might as well not reveal the truth and allow the children to ask unanswered questions on why there's a difference between ORB coordinators who are their friends and the ZAFT coordinators who are trying to befriend them. Understanding is the key to accepting, and whitewashing hides the truth that ZAFT coordinators and ORB citizens were once enemies but are allies for peace now."

The minister was silent, and she slowly returned to her seat, seemingly shrinking under Cagalli's baleful stare. And Cagalli looked at all of them and gulped a bit, and then her voice still steady even though there was a tremor in it, "They should know I was the one who left ORB in the hands of Yuna Roma Seiran."

There was a second uproar at the table and through a daze, she heard a voice yelling, "It's not your fault Chairman!"

"It's not, you were forced into that situation by the Seirans, we all know that!" another cried, and there was a tirade of similar voices, and she felt strangely comforted by the anger and rage all around her in the knowledge that it wasn't directed towards her.

"Enough," she said wearily, "It is necessary and it will be done. Spare none of the truth, and I will expect a proposal on the next line of action by tomorrow at the same time. Dismissed."

And they all stood up, all but her, and she thought of a plant, firmly rooted but still unable to grow because of the tall buildings overshadowing it and casting darkness upon it, but an instant later, all of them had saluted, and the women had tears in their eyes.

She forced her feet to support her weight and stood up slowly, blinking back the prickling behind her own eyes herself, feeling tired even though the day had barely begun. It all boiled down to her to keep ORB together, and she was going to even if there was a situation where she became unpopular with the very people she had sacrificed her life for.

And she saluted too and left.

The rest of the day was per usual, and she was reluctant to go home and talk to him about it, but she eventually collected her things and left.

When she got home, he was already there. The house was inhabited, she knew that, because the security locks were already released, he always did that because he didn't like those there, and anyway, he could probably handle a thief or something if he was at home, Athrun Zala wasn't quite as incompetent as to be robbed under his own nose, she thought wryly. And there was a faint trace of him here and there other than the obvious pair of shoes lying neatly at the side and the coat on the rack, it was more than that, really, more indescribable, more enigmatic, more subtle, and she couldn't place what it was, but she knew he was home.

"Athrun," she called, trying to keep the fear from entering her voice, "I'm home!"

He appeared at the top of the stairs in a clean white shirt and pants, so he had had enough time to take a bath. Cagalli stood there staring a bit in a blank sort of fashion, and he immediately strode down, a smile lighting his features up with a wonderful kind of ease she hadn't seen much during the second war, he had been in the Justice most of the time anyway. One thing though, he loved being there, she knew that as much as he did. Truth be told, Athrun had acquired a sort of obsession with piloting, although it wasn't particularly obvious, but even when he had been her bodyguard, she knew his hands were itching to pilot. Not so much fight, but pilot. And she pretended she hadn't noticed, because she hadn't wanted to lose him. Eventually though, she hadn't seen him piloting, personally, not next to him, sitting next to him, not after the Armory One incident. But to be fair to him, she thought wistfully, she hadn't seen much of him during that time in any case.

And Athrun paused at the foot of the steps, and then he inquired, "Why are you standing there with your things in your hands? You could always put them down and take the strain off your arms."

"True," she offered weakly, and she tossed them near the chairs carelessly and he smiled again and led her to him and then he gazed at her in silence, although she was aware his was a comfortable one and hers was overtly akward. But Athrun asked softly, his breath tickling her ear, and he asked warmly, "How was your day?"

"Fine," she started to say out of pure habit, but there was no more time to keep things from him, she needed to hear what he thought about what she was going to do, and she changed what she had been about to reply and answered ruefully, "Bloody rotten."

"Rotten," he said in surprise, pulling back and she noticed that his green eyes had widened slightly, "What made it so?"

"You mean there's nothing you've heard at the camp when you were at work so far?" she asked incredulously, and his eyes were suddenly guarded and a little sharp, and he shook his head, although Cagalli saw that it was hesitant and his hands were slowly leaving her shoulders.

"I have something to discuss with you," she began, but Athrun looked at her and stated, "The school incident they tried to hush up."

"Obviously it failed to be a hush-hush affair," she sighed, bringing him to the sofa and making both of them sit, "Although that is a blessing in itself, or I might have never heard that there was some form of tension, no matter how slight. We're pretty stumped on how to handle this, especially since it could be only a false alarm which is normal in a situation like this which has been ongoing for only a short year, and we all know what a short time it is."

"True," he agreed, his eyes flickering over her face briefly, "And the things I heard weren't that serious, just some spat in school, some little fight that reminded me more of Yzak and the bar brawls he always got into rather than a harbinger of war or something as drastic like that."

"Oh, you're horrid;" she laughed, enjoying the genuine pleasure in her voice, he could always cheer her up somehow, "Yzak would kill you if he knew you were making comparisons to him and a childish spat, which really, isn't exactly all childish either. I think there could be a relevance to this that needs some careful applying, and a mistake now could mean a whole host of problems in the future if we're not careful."

"Right," he said sombrely, a little more tense than before, although one of his hands were holding hers tenderly, "So what have you planned to execute?"

"We're going to try giving a little more updated history lessons," Cagalli answered earnestly, looking at his reaction carefully, "I think letting them know that ZAFT attacked ORB once because of the situation and not because of who our people are or whether they are different kinds of coordinators or naturals was the issue at that point of time."

"That's a solid solution," he agreed readily, then Athrun stared strangely at her, and when he spoke, his voice held a note of tension in it, "But what if they ask why ZAFT attacked in the first place?"

"No problem at all," she assured herself more than him, "We'll just let them know ORB was hiding Lord Djibril and that Cagalli Yula Atha was the main culprit in letting Yuna Roma Seiran take control and rendezvous with the Blue Cosmos leader."

"No," he interrupted, "Don't put yourself at blame."

"There's nothing to blame" she cut in tightly, removing her hands from his now, "There's only the truth to be told."

"It doesn't matter if you leave out the fact that Freedom took you away from the ceremony and hence let ORB get controlled by the Seirans," Athrun told her stoically, "You only need to reveal that Yuna Roma Seiran was the one who got ORB and ZAFT in that situation, leave yourself out of this."

He shifted slightly and stared at her, his expression inscrutable and intense all at once.

"I will," Cagalli said softly and wistfully, "But there's always something to hide isn't there?"

She wasn't quite sure how to approach this now, and then she let him take her face between his hands and lead it to his torso, where she willingly nuzzled against him for comfort and then she sighed wearily.

"If only I hadn't been so weak back then," she muttered, feeling like kicking something, preferably herself, but Athrun was stroking her hair, he always did that when he knew she wanted to be comforted, and then he said softly, "You were forced into it. I know you were, and that's enough, isn't it?"

"It is," she replied, truly meaning it, "I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't realised in the end that I never wanted to get hitched to that monster or if Kira hadn't taken me away at the point when I was about to sign my name and dig my grave."

"You could have sent a message to me and told me that you didn't fancy that man," Athrun said blithely, successfully hiding the bitterness he still felt in a smaller dose as compared to the past, "And I would have gone and picked you up myself instead of only finding out you got married to Yuna Roma Seiran."

"I would have, "she cried indignantly, "I thought you would have known that I didn't exactly love the idiot, I was forced into marrying him! And for the life of me, I don't understand why he needed me either, I didn't have much power then so it would have been a hopeless situation! But you know I couldn't because it was kept under wraps and because-,"

"I know," he interrupted gently," And that doesn't matter. He's dead and we're not. And you belong to me, and ORB belongs to you, and you can do what you think is best and come home to me."

She was silent as she buried her face against him, absorbing as much warmth from him as she could, and she muttered awkwardly, "I know I apologised once after you got on the Archangel with Meyrin, but I'm sorry for not telling you what I was going to do and marry Yuna Roma Seiran. It was quite cowardly trying to get the message across by using Kira, I don't know why I did that either."

"No matter," he said for the third time that day, looking at her and wanting to make her stay where she was with him forever, "I'll stay with you for as long as you want me to, and I hope that's-,"

"Forever,' Cagalli interrupted eagerly, lifting her head up and pressing it closer to his face, "And don't you dare try and get rid of me now, I'll haunt you or something if you do."

"Wouldn't dream of it," he replied dryly with a rueful smile, and then they stood up and she stretched laboriously while he watched her balefully, his hands now firmly planted on her hips.

"Who's cooking tonight?" Cagalli asked a bit distractedly, her mouth formed in a yawn as she rotated her neck a bit to relieve the soreness.

"You can do it," he said lazily, pulling her closer to him so she grinded slightly against his more angular frame, and she glared mock-angrily and said sternly, "Don't make it sound as if I have an obligation to. And besides, you know my cooking isn't very good either."

"Neither is mine," he offered brightly, "So why don't we just cook our own and do a bit of a swap, but then, who cares about that, we could always-,"

"Good suggestion," she interrupted hastily, not wanting to hear the rest of his sentence, pulling away and swiftly fleeing through the large, conjoined rooms until she reached the kitchen. She heard Athrun cry indignantly, 'Hey!' from behind her but she laughed and insisted that they eat dinner properly. And it was so easy to love him so much that it made her so happy and so painful all over and all at once.


	5. Chapter 5

I don't own GS/GSD. R&R please.

Chapter 5

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She stood very, very still, making sure her breathing was even and superbly silent in its control so nobody would hear her. Shaking the blonde hair that had fallen into her eyes during the whole business of hide-and-seek, Cagalli listened out for any footsteps approaching and giggled a little, but she checked herself immediately and stifled the urge to roar with laughter which she was certainly more prone to doing rather than nondescript chuckles that were more typical of Lacus. 

She loved weekends, worshipped those, in fact, because those days were days of her days of happiness and truly saturated euphoria with him. Athrun had actually insisted that she leave office work that was assigned to another week to the week it was orgianlly allocated to, because he didn't see the need for her to complete work three weeks in advance of the stipulated date. He wasn't a very forceful person by nature, quite mild but serious, upholding impossibly high standards for himself but substandard, low ones when it came to others, accepting whatever they could give and not demanding for more. So when Athrun had gazed at her with a sort of indescribable longing in his eyes and asked her if she would do as he said, she couldn't say no to him or herself for that matter either. No matter how she tried to reinforce in herself that she wasn't as dependent on Athrun Zala as she appeared to be, she knew that facts didn't change no matter how hard she might have tried to will them to.

"Besides," he had half-drawled a bit later after she'd agreed to cut herself some slack, doing that while propped up on one of the soft cushions she similarly lay on, and quite unfazed by her indignant expression when he suggested that she leave the extra work off the weekends, "You can mind a country, but if you do it too much, nobody's going to mind you."

His words were simple, it was bare, almost naked in its brutal truthfulness and she understood what he was trying to say and felt a bit guilty about then. She was apprehensive too, and the meanings slotted in between his words had made her squrim a little but quite uncomfortably, and Cagalli had resolved there and then to be more of his wife rather then ORB's mistress. But the would-be ominous note became less apparent when he swooped down and kissed her, as if daring her to disagree.

She didn't.

So Cagalli hadn't been able to argue with that, and here she was, crouching in some scratchy, resilinet looking weeds in a mishappen boulder and hiding from the children. They had been quite upset when Kira and Lacus went off and left them after having gotten used to the couple's presence for so long, and Markio had experienced so much trouble with their unbridled mischief after that to the extent that the gentle, calm man had actually threatened to omit desert from their menus. Athrun had visited that week without her, and perhaps he had intervened, elevating him to the status of a worshipped deity in the eyes of the children. The last time she had seen them, they had crowded around him, practically in awe and reverence, and she had teased him mercilessly about it even days after that visit. He reciprocrated by casually, or would-be casually telling Kisaka the way she liked to sprawl herself all over the bed when she slept. All this in front of her, and her face had been a tomato then, she had made him stop by swearing never to tease him too much, and so he got his back at her.

Now, Athrun had convinced her to visit with him at the orphanage, and they had spent the better half of the morning bringing the children for walks all over the place, and it was uncanny how they resembled a large motley crew trampling around the wild vegetation near the coast. She hadn't been exceptionally keen to go to an area she held so many bad memories of, but at the same time, Cagalli had been too embarrasssed to admit that she was jumpy and frightened of the prospect of being at a beach. But Athrun hadn't said anything, he had just brought her close to him before they set off for the orphanage and held her tight for a few moments, although it was like eternity then. He had told her, a sort of fierce posseiveness in his green eyes that had accelerated her heartbeat instantly, "I'll protect you."

She had been painfully aware of the way he had said that five years ago when she had been about seventeen. Being in love then was different from being in love now, because Cagalli finally belonged to him and nobody could tear her away from him. Athrun said he would protect her five years ago and then he had left for ZAFT with her consent. Unbeknowst to him, after he had left and she watched from the ground as the shuttle made a cloud stream in the blue sky, she had miserably whispered, "Good luck, Athrun."

Because she had allowed him to, he had left her. And at that time, she had thought to herself, "Am I a burden to him?"

Although her inner fears were concelaed well from sight, particularly Athrun's, and those were admittedly irrational, probably due to her situation at that point int time, she had honestly thought for more than a while, of course, after he had used harsh words against her regardless of the ring she had worn then on the island, that he didn't love her anymore than she loved a man who had tried to use her as a puppet. In any case, Athrun Zala had never been a man of too many words, but neither was he one of few words, it was jsut that Athrun preferred more actions than words to convey his thoughts. And so, he had never told her he loved her, not openly or verbally, no, and she believed he did and was perfectly satisfied living in the bliss of that faith. But three years ago, it had been irreparably shaken, and then Cagalli had thought, sinking into despair and isloated from even her brother, trapped in a country that seemed to deem her as insignificant and unnecessary save for the wife of a man she didn't love, even despised, that her world was crumbling without Athrun Zala.

But now she wore the ring again, no matter how chaotic things might turn out to be if she took one wrong turn and swerved in a direction whereby detrimental consequences were inevitable, it wouldn't matter to him, for he'd still be there to hold her silently, giving all and taking very little back. And Athrun would stroke her hair, offering silence and comfort and then she'd know that he didn't want to leave even if she asked him to and then-

"Found you!" a high-pitched squeal issuing from the cherry lips of Andre ripped her musing cleanly into halves and threw them to the side. He had grown so tall from the last time she had seen him that he was akin to a runner bean by children's standards. She hastily hauled him in and clapped a mouth over his own and hissed frusiously, "Don't! You'll make them know I'm here, and I'll be mocked for choosing to hide in the bushes! You're my accomplice now, so you stay put and can it, you!"

The child squirmed in her arms but he nodded, the glint of mischief in his eyes even more prounounced than ever, and with a sigh of relief, she let go and let him hug her with his tiny arms around her waiste with his head resting against her as they huddled in the semi-darkness, trying hard not to laugh and let themselves be discovered by the other seekers. He was a dear child, he was, very precocious for his age and quite cute in the innocence he possesed even though he tried so hard, so very, very hard to be a grown-up. And she ruffled his hair somewhat absently in her affection as he cuddled unabashedly, knowing she wouldn't jeer at his want of affection and Cagalli grinned to noone in particular as she felt him bury his face as he turned towards her and she carried him securely in her lap. It would soon feel sore, but she half-expected the others to find them before it became unbearable. If she knew Athrun to be who she thought he was, then he'd be here to locate them himself in no time at all.

She watched, almost idly, as tiny feet went pitter-patter across where they were enshourded, and then Cagalli's heartbeat went faster as she noticed a noticeably larger pair trailing after them at a comfortable pace. A split-second later, Andre was whispering to her in conspiratory tones, "Hey! Athrun's there!"

"Well of course he is," she muttered back in low tones, shuffling her feet slightly lest they cramp, "He drew the lot which was a seeker with Laylia and Pieter, didn't he? Along with you of course, but you're my captive now so you better not try anything funny with me."

He looked up at her adoringly, enjoying the Gestapo act she had put up to spice up the situation and he beamed, his large brown eyes wider than ever with a pleased I-know-a-secret-that-you-don't air that was highly reminiscent of Lacus. She smiled briefly at him and kept very still, then she saw the feet march pause right in front of them and her breath was hitched up, but a moment later they moved off after the first few smaller feet that Andre's might have bene with if she hadn't reeled him in to help her. But he sneezed a second later and the same feet she recognised quite well was instantly in front of ths shrubs and a pair of hands drew the fronds aparts as he often did in the morning, only that this time, the curtains were vines.

"Found you!" he exclaimed triumphantly, staring baldly at them and dryly noting that if it weren't a child and another man Cagalli was holding in such a manner, he'd have killed the unfortunate person already. And there were shouts of excitement from the distance as about a dozen children came pouring from everywhere like excited bees and started hurtling towards him as he stood there grinning at them. And Cagalli made a complete headcount in an instant, so they had located all but her, hadn't they? Not too bad, she thought with some satisfaction, not too bad at all.

Pouting slightly, Cagalli hurriedly disentagled herself from Andre and made him get up by prodding him absently in the side, then she did the same, running a slightly grimy hand trhough her hair and laughing a bit fooshily at all of them who were doing the same save for Athrun. He didn't laugh often, not openly at least, discounting the dry chuckles and slight smirks at times, but he might grant her a smile that made her heart flutter and a blush stain her cheeks the way berries would for fingers that picked them, but his laugh, that was rare. She didn't mind, she was breathless from the laughter after a bit, and he was still smiling silently at them, warmth coursing through his eyes and directing themselves at the children and eventually, only to her.

Making sure that the tingling sensation beneath her cheeks were well-controlled, she allowed him a half-smile, half-grimace at her disgrace of being found, and then she allowed her hands to be linked by the children's as they shouted in their mad joy that tea was served, signalled by a bell pealing in the distance.

"Alright," Athrun agreed very obligingly, "We can go now and stuff our faces like pigs."

"We're not ging to be supermodels, who cares?" Gayle questioned testily, his messy, pale hair looking more unkempt than ever, "Let's go right now! Quick, Father Markio will be waiting for us so we can start! He promised us that we could cut a cake Tribrire baked yesteray to cleebrate your coming today!"

"No need to cut her cake," Cagalli protested, steered by the orpahns, not managsing to spot the look of intense delgiht that fltited over the young gir's face at the notion that her cake was being used for such a moment, "No need, really!"

"Oh, don't be so mean!" Gayle giggled, insanely to say the least, "She baked the cake for all of us knowing that Athrun and Cagalli were both cpkign today."

And so she conceded, somewhat reluctantly because it was such a pity to cut the gorgeous, layered confectionary the girl had made, a miracle in its very manufacture, but a bite of it convinced her that the choice to cut it for tea had been appropriate to say the least.

By the time Athrun guided her into the car and they reached home after a half-hour's drive, she was dozing off, thoroughly spent from the day's antics and the children's wild games. She refused to talk to him in the car because Athrun never spoke while driving if he could help it. He was just too careful with things like that.

And she let him take her coat for her and hang it securely with his own and moved mechanically to the bathroom, feeling her joints crumble a bit as if they were steel pieces left for too long in the rain where rust now covered the vital areas and weakened them, wearing them down with time. When Cagalli moved out langourously, rubbing her damp hair with a thick, Turkish towel, he grinned at her from where he was sitting with a pen in his hand and scribbling on some documentation. And he then took over the use of the bathroom while she settled comfortably on the bed, lying flat on her stomach, dozing and lazing around. The sounds of water and the tap being turned on and off occasionally kept her from drifting entirely to a place where only dreams would reach her. But she became dinstinctively aware that he had finished his own bath when a shadow was cast over her, his shadow, more specifically, encased in the spicy aftershave which she vaguely identified with his presence instantly. She would have gotten up straight after rolling over to rest on her back in a bit of surprise at his sudden presence, but Athrun merely shook his head, pinning her down with his arms and muttured, "S'kay, go back to sleep."

But she encircled her arms tiredly, like a child, around his waist, similar to what Andre had demonstarted to her earlier in the day and absently murmured, "Can't think, too sleepy."

"Then don't think," he replied quite easily, forcing her to settle back comfortabley and slipping beneath the covers where some of her warmth was absorbed and she shivered a little, "Just rest."

"Alright," she conceded tiredly, nuzzling against him and feeling at ease as she lay against his chest, wondeirng to what extent would it's firmness and stability stretch up to, "Did you like the children today?"

His eyebrows raised cynically and he gave a wry smile, his long, slim fingers sifting through her hair by sheer force of habit. She arched her neck obligingly, draining in the sensation and trying to lock it in her memory.

"It helps that the black blood was cleared," he said finally, his ministrations paused for a while, and when she tried to make him tell her more, he only shook his head and pressed a finger to her lips and told her in a low voice laced with honey and delicious warmth, "Don't think so much or you'll ruin this before you even know it."

The next morning before the sun was clearly apparent in the sky, she awoke when the alarm went off, that was set for her, he always woke on time, not a minute more, not a minute less, and he always left earlier than her and therefore, the pillow next to hers was already faintly cold. She would have sighed in regret but then she was already used to it. Her marriage never equated to freedom to be with him for every single minute of her life, and in that respect, she was glad. Because it was very easy, too easy, too dangerous, to become dependent on someone like Athrun Zala.

And that evening, they had their first fight in a long time.Granted, they always bickered over some things, but it was more often than not, mischief and some form of argument, a casual sparring of words that would end up in luxurious evenings that melded into morning of slight regret and wistfulness when she awoke alone. That fight though, was more bitter than of playfulness and more of anger than of fiestiness. And for days after that, hurt welled up in her and the slight bruises on her wrists, inconspicuous and unintentional, stood out when one looked close enough, like purplish-black butterflies on her honey skin.


	6. Chapter 6

I don't own GS/GSD

R&R please.

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Chapter 6 

The fight wasn't like those that they had in the past. Those in the past were petty little ones she could forget easily, those were akin to spice, just little dashes of it here and there and a bit of squabbling that seemed a bit childish when Cagalli recalled it. The first time that they fought was the first time they met, that had been grim and bitter, she had been prepared to kill him, but at the last minute, she had gotten cold feet and thrown the gun she had jsut fired into the air. He had leapt at her with his knife, ready to slash her throat if necessary, but they had merely ended up in a compromising state of entangled limbs as Athrun galred at her and shouted agnrily and almost disbelievingly, "Do you want to die?"

The ssecond time they fought was after the war, when she had been about seventeen and waiting for the law to state her legal to join the governent of ORB. He had been Alex Dino then, but she always called him Athrun, she did't know why she couldn't conform to his identity or rather, his need for a new one.And strangely, that had been the cause of the second argument. He had told her in private and quite sharply, that he wanted her to call him Alex and not Athrun, but she had protested fiercely and shot at him, "Alex Dino doesn't exist!"

He had looked with cold eyes at nobody else but her, and she hadn't realised that his need for the new identity was a scar she had not seen and had unwittingly reopened. He had apologised later, or to be exact, she had tried to stammer and apology but he had simply looked at her, bent and hugged her. She couldnt' hear anything, the rush in her ears was louder than any waterfall she had witnessed, but she somehow heard him say siomething and make out a muffled arrangement of words.

"Let me stay like this, don't tell me to go now.." He had said softly from the back of her head, holding her close.

And she had let him.

An evening ago, he had came back and put his briefcase by the door. She might have noticed it wasn't like him, Athrun was a very neat, precise person, he never left things lying about, and so Cagalli might have noticed that something was wrong. But she didn't.

And he hadn't taken off his coat or let her either, he had looked at her grimly while she stared at him, wondeirng why he was being so strange.

"We need to sit down and discuss something." He stated baldly, and he had led her to the chair and towered over her, and she saw that he was in some sort of inner turmoil, his green eyes were badly troubled and his lips were twisted in an unbecoming frown more suited for someone else, not Athrun Zala.

And he paced a little, he was prone to doing that while he thought, and then with some difficulty, he looked at her and told her, "They're releasing Jun Thornier on parole in three days' time." He proceeded to lay a hand on the wall although it was more forceful in gesture rather than the action itself.

Cagalli stared at him, eyes widened in slight dismay, and she stammered, "G-good behaviour?"

"That's right," he continued cryptically, "He will be released soon, and I want you to stay away from him. You need tighter seurity, I don't want the lunatic charging in here and trying to kill you just because he held some strange grudge against things that showed coordinators and naturals could get along well."

She was silent, struck by some sort of innate fear. Jun Thornier had tried to assasinate her, and she would have died. But this, it was-

"Ridiculous," Cagalli declared sharply, "I'll do no such thing as that."

His expression, wary and concerned, became a little frantic and his eyes grew colder, and she shivered a little because he looked like he was another person altogether. 'That's the way he looks when he kills someone,' she thought fearfully, and then she was immediately guilty of the horrid thoughts she had even harboured about Athrun.

"You will do as I say," he countered boldly, his voice sharp too, perhaps sharper than hers, "And get some better security or I'll quit my job and be a bodyguard for you."

"Don't be anal," she cursed angrily, "You're the head of an international peacekeeping organisaiont for Pete's sake! You don't do things like that to threaten me, Athrun! I don't stand for things like that, and you should know it!"

The next thing she knew, he had crossed the room in a few strides and was pinning her to the chair, his breath ragged like a worn cloth and his face contorted in pain, and he hissed, "Whatever it is, I want you to up the security."

Cagalli knew it made sense to, it wouldn't cost so much, her life was more valuable anyway, and she knew he was doing this out of concern, Jun Thornier, as far as they were concerned, was out of control, a complete maniac if there ever was one. But she didn't want to frighten herself and Athrun by carrying some bodyguards all over the place and making it obvious she was afraid, because doing that would finalise the fact that she actually was. And Cagfalli was a headstrong, stubborn person, she never wanted to be afraid or worse, let others know that she was either.

"No," she cried, struggling a little but to no avail, his hands were gripping her shoulders too tightly for any compromise, and she said this with a little pique and mostly frustration, "I won't, and nothing you say will make me!"

"Nothing I say," he repeated mutely, and hsi grip on her arms slackened bit by bit, and she found herself able to open her eyes and slowly look at him. And she might have regretted saying what she had because there was hurt in his eyes and his face was pale, but a second later, the hurt had spun into decisiveness and his lips crashed upon hers while she struggled and tried to shout for him to stop but was only successful in creating a few spluttering sounds. His grip was tighter than ever on her shoulders, then they moved down to her wrists as he pinned her against the chair she sat in, and she flailed and twisted urgently and violently but she was still inevitably trapped in the seat. He paused to let both of them breathe, and she half-screamed, half-sobbed, "Why'd you do that?"

He looked at her with an inscrutable expression now, and when he had gripped her wrists to stop her from struggling, he had pressed down hard, and there were slight bruises there where his fingers had been. She was flushed, her neck and jawline and lips were flushed from his actions, but her eyes were frustrated and filled with misery.

"I wanted to remind you that I'm your husband," he said softly. And she wrenched a hand from his grip, not even noticing that her wrist was a bit bruised and she delivered a stinging, hurtful slap right across his face, and when she looked at him again, there was an ugly welt on his cheek that would form in no time.

"Don't do that again," she sobbed, and she pushed herself up and out of the chair and ran up the stairs to the drawing room, airy and large, and then she bolted the door, back to the wood, and she slid down slowly and painfully, trying hard not to cry. That night, she slept there, alone, cold and tired from the experience of their first quarrel, and hence, she wasn't aware that footsteps had approached the door mroe than once in the night but had gotten no further than the bolted door.

So that was their first fight. She didn't regret having taken her stand about the issue, she regretted not being able to communicate her reasons for that particular stand to Athrun.

The next morning when she awoke, she ached all over fromt he sleeping in the drawing room. She was hurting, physcially and inwardly, the floor was cold but so was she without even a blanket or him to hold her. But she got up anyway and somehow pushed herself to work. He had left earlier, as per usaul, a fight wouldn't stop Athrun Zala from doing his duty.She frowned slightly and proceeded as per usual to do likewise, if he could do it, she'd show him that she wasn't any less capable than him either.

At the end of the day, she had left for home, feeling more than slightly apprehensive about seeing Athrun later, wondering who would crack first, her or him. 'Not me,' she promised herself stubbornly, 'Not me.'

So she went home and did her daily chores as usual, then she fell asleep on a couch while idly typing a letter to Lacus to check her progress with the preganancy. Lacus was in the second trimester now, her pregnancy was showing even more clearly and Lacus had been prone to bouts of insomnia or weariness and Kira had been beside himself in worry, although the doctors had assured him that it was perfectly normal.

She had been typing, but then she got stuck on wondering if she ought to ask Lacus about how her brother and her would sort out their quarrels and little spats, and unwittingly, Cagalli had drifted off to sleep in her weariness and internal pain. She slept for an hour, not knowing that he had came home to find her curled up on the couch, sleeping fitfully with something painfully fragile about her. He had knelt on the floor and kissed her on her forehead, a chaste, gently kiss, and she hadn't woken up and he hadn't had the heart to wake her up either. So he went about all his things asnd prepared dinner, and she finally woke up, roused by the aroma wafting through the house.

"Welcome home," she offered sleepily, saying what she did by force of habit, sitting up and rubbing her eyes sleepily with one hand. It seemed to him that she had forgotten about the quarrel, the bruises on her wrists had died down so much they were barely there, and he saw the glint on her finger and smiled softly at her.

"I'm back," he told her softly, moving to her and taking her by the hand so she could stand with ease, "And dinner's ready."

She looked at him blearily, still a captive of sleep's hold, and she moved unsteadily to the table, and sat ungracefully in a chair while he moved more languidly to another opposite her and sat down, obviously less awkwardly than her. it was funny how the rest of the world semeed to fade away into a blur of nothing, leaving only him across her and her across him. And there were only two of them, only two of them. The table was meant for at least thirty, and there they were seating in the middle of the long table, surrounded by an expanse of empty table space and chairs that nobody sat in. So they were like an island, isolated but formed of two.

"How was work?" she offered a bit awkwardly, unsure of whether he would still try to make her upp the security, which she would certainly refuse to do and then that'd start a whole repeat of yesterday's scuffle.

"Fine," he said a bit tensely. He wouldn't tell her that he had spoken to Kisaka and Amagi and made them swear they would bring in more security, in fact, they were rather willing to do it, quite obliging really. It seemed to all of them that Cagalli was only foolhardy if she didn't upp the security, but the problem was that Cagalli wasn't the most receptive to change amongst all the people that they knew of. And the problem was that Athrun needed her too much to let her get hurt. He might have told her now, during dinner, that work today had consisted of extra time spent on checking up Jun Thornier and confirming that he actually had been well-behaved during his stay in the pirson's asylum. And Athrun ahd bene frustrated to find out that no amount of lobbying would change the rights Thornier had to his parole in two days time. So that left only Cagalli to deal with, and only was an understatement, because dealing with Cagalli Yula Atha was equivalent to delaing with a mule. Worst still, she was his wife and not just the key political figure in ORB. It didn't matter much that she was anyway, Cagalli was just Cagalli to him. But Athrun hadn't been as possesive over anything until he had met her. And because of that, he would still try and cross the lines she had already stubbornly set and made clear.

She raised a cynical eyebrow at him, a gesture she had learnt from Athrun herself, she knew work wouldn't simply consist of 'fine', perhaps more profanities and a few more to be sure, but then Athrun was Athrun, he never said more than what was necessary.

"Look," she began unsurely, "You know yesterday, I didn't mean to be so harsh on you and all that, I won't apologise for my stand that I don't need more security, but it was wrong for me to not tell y-,"

"That's alright," he interrupted swiftly, his heart thumping at an incredible pace, "I'm guilty of that too."

So she had cracked first. That was his hold on her, she was always drawn to his will because she needed him so desperately. He had cracked a spilt-second after her, perhaps because of the same reason. But underneath the now calm exterior, she would always remember the first quarrel they had, and she would never change her stand either. She didn't want to do as he said, she was too headstrong for all that. And he knew she didn't want to, but in secret, he was arranging it already. But nothing was out in the open, and as long as that was fine, then it would be alright. So dinner was quite an enjoyable affair after that.

And subsequently, that night wasn't a cold night for either of them, and she awoke alone as per usual and missed him more than ever.


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I don't own GS/GSD, but that means I get to play around with the characters, no? Please R&R!

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Chapter 7 

Athrun flipped a pile of papers and sighed, shuffling thing here and there and trying to neaten up his desk a bit. He was careless, and the papers he shifted knocked over his cup, which incidentally held the third dose of it he had had that day. He cursed under his breath and stood up quickly, too quickly, he bumped his toe at the corner and hissed in pain and felt the jolts shoot through his leg and die off only about the time time reached his hairline. He glanced over, mobile once again from the momentary freeze, and saw that the pile of brown liquid had cunningly seeped through his documents, and he cursed agian, but this time, very, very loudly.

"Can I help you with anything sir?" his secretary said sweetly, popping her head in, and he noticed that she had dyed her brown hair a shocking red quite reminiscent of the youngest Hawke. And Athrun saw, with some humour of course, the irony of all the secretaries he had ever having uncanny links to all his previous girlfriends' hair colours, or rather, current wife and would-be-girlfriend if he had been interested Meyrin Hawke. Whichsuddenly diverted his attention back to the coffee spill.

Shaking his head slightly, he waved for her to go and fetched a wad of tissues, spreading them liberally everywhere and sighing a bit. Then he picked up the ruined documents and moved back to his printer and reprinted them once more. Page after page of codes and words were sliding out and issusing all over, and the last of them was a mug-shot that would have left a strange impression on anyone who had even heard of Jun Thornier. He looked almost normal there, he had a sort of half-smile on his face, and his eyes were quite calm, no rage or frenzied panic in them, none whatsoever. His hair was the only thing that gave him away, it was matted and fell into hie eyes partially, and it cast a slight shadow over his face.

No wonder they always wanted the soldier's fringes out of their eyes, it always made them look a bit shifty in polaroids, hence the general rule that the bangs and fringes had to be swept to the side. 'Tell that to ZAFT soldiers,' Athrun thought wryly, 'And they'll send call for the fashion police.'

It was true however, ZAFT, being a volunteer army, had slacker rules when it came to dressing. A good example of that was Lunamaria Hawke, or more specifically, her mini-skirt. Her pink mini skirt, if you wanted to be pin-point precise. But perhaps the reason for the rather slack uniform checks was the fact that the soldiers were all Coordinators, and that meant extraordinary hair colours in the first place. Of course they could have insisted that the females tied their hair up and the males kept no bangs.

But Yzak Joule could do whatever he wanted while sporting those bangs, so that included the whole world where ZAFT regulations were concerned, as far as his friend with a terrible temper was concerned, if he could get away with murder, then the rest of the world was entitled to it too. And still, Yzak was fair and just, the kind of man everyone wanted to be associated with, and he spared nobody favours on account that he held a secret affection for them. He had threatened to kill Dearka in the first war, aiming a pistol at him when he had seen how Dearka had betrayed ZAFT, but then their friendship hadn't suffered after that. Dearka still used the little incident to remind Yzak to not pile him with extra work, but it was altogether, unsuccessful, although Athrun could see, quite clearly too, that the mention of that incident would cause Yzak to become a deep shade of lobster. And both of them weren't too keen on following regulations either, the wars had shown that quite clearly too.

The only one who had followed the regulations was Meyrin Hawke, he thought with a smile, busily mopping up the mess on his table. Not even Shiho, the number-one stickler for rules, followed them, but of course, to cut Shiho Hahenfuss some slack, that was her image on the surface, she was quite rebellious although not obviously and overtly like her fiance. Athrun had caught them kissing in the weapon armory once where entry was prohibited and failure to comply was a breach of regulations. Obviously, neither of his friends had cared, in fact, they abused the security of that room to an extent that Athrun wouldn't have like to contemplate and elaborate on at all.

But Meyrin Hawke, no. She religiously tied her hair up, albeit it looking like some school-girl's train of thought, and she never modified her uniform to suit her, unlike Lunamaria. Speaking of which, he had never taken notice of her until she had forcefully collided into him, not by choice probably, some over-eager soldiers had knocked her down during Mia Campbell's live performance. She had been very shy and meek, clumsy even, and he hadn't been exactly drawn to that aspect of her. But he had been impressed, to say the least, when she had saved his life so simply and daringly in a singular effort. And he had allowed himself to become close to her, not that he had much choice anyway, still, the shyness and courage that were so artfully intertwined made him think of Cagalli. Of course, one could have argued that Cagalli was anything but shy, but Athrun knew better, he saw facets of Cagalli nobody saw, save for himself.

He never admitted this to himself, but he had seen more Cagalli in Meyrin than he would have ever liked to say aloud, her courage and almost foolhardy ways were quite similar to Cagalli's and the shy nature and fragility of her smile had made him think of Cagalli as time went by. Of course, one could further argue that absence warped memories and he was just desperate to hold onto anything that felt dinstinctively like Cagalli. But she hadn't been Cagalli, no she hadn't, Meyrin probably didn't know that she resembled Cagalli in more ways than one. For a while, Athrun had considered being with Meyrin in his loneliness and despair, but he had sensed that Meyrin wasn't aiming for a short-term relationship. He wasn't either, but the only problem was that he only wanted the long-term relationship with someone else, and he tried very hard to keep a distance from Meyrin Hawke. It would have been selfish to them if he had fooled himself into thiking that Meyrin Hawke was Cagalli's equivalent. She wasn't. She just wasn't.

And he held up the fresh pieces of papaer and sighed again, staring hard at the man who stared unblinkingly back.

"I won't let you hurt her, Thornier," he said fiercely, "Don't try it."

Cagalli, on the other hand, was in strange daze. She barely knew what she was doing at times, but she somehow managed to do what she had always been doing- running her country. Lunch she didn't forgo, she certainly did no slave through alll twenty-four hours of the day because she knew her mind would go in no time if she chose that option. But when she needed a break at mid-day, she would take a sandwich or two and sit in an open field next to the Parliament House. Nobody really went there, maybe Rainie and recently Vino, she had spotted them once or twice, but other than those two, nobody went there except her. Her bodyguards were in the vicinity, that she was sure of, but they always maintained a distance because they knew that time and that place was solely for her to have, a sort of sanctuary other than her home.

Today, she sat there, playing witht he empty plastic wrapper that had previously contained her lunch, gazing at the golden wheat and honey-cloured grasses in the distance, and feeling the slightly warm breese move through her hair and brush her face with its invisible fingertips. And she wondered what Lacus was doing at that instant, in PLANT, it would be about evening, so perhaps she was preparing dinner. Or rather, waiting for Kira to finish preparing it, especially when Kira refused to let her do any chores at all.

But she heard a noise and was startled, brought back from her reverie, and she looked up, just in time to see something slip behind the trees. Laughing to herself, she made a note to tell Rainie to brush up on her stealth and tracking skills, it was far too conspicuous. Getting up woodenly and brushing some pollen off her cothes, she made her way back to her office where her concentration proved to be better for next few hours until she finally picked everything up and stood up, ready to go home.

"Rainie," she called loudly, waiting for the girl to appear, "I'm going home!"

A scuffling of feet was heard, and she thought it was strange, it sounded like a whole army of people were outside her door when it was usually either a pair of them and not the whole group, they took shifts, didn't they?

Shrugging slightly, she waited and saw the petite girl bopp in, her long hair only recently cut short, making her look spunkier than ever. Her tie-and-suit uniform, customary of all bodyguards was a bit rumpled, clearly, the girl wasn't keen on appearances.

"You called?" she offered cheerfully, but Cagalli noticed something like worry lurking under her brown eyes. And she immediately suspected something and frowned slightly, and she thought of a way to test her sneaking suspicions, wondering if Rainie would fall for it. But she went for it anyway, anything would do at this stage.

"I did," Cagalli confirmed easily, "I'm going to make a move, you do the same, maybe you can get whoever who's still around to go home too."

Quite forgetting what Athrun Zala had told her to be careful of, the bodyguard spun on her heel, opened the door, and yelled, her hands level to her mouth, "You all can go now!"

And the same scuffling of feet was heard and Cagalli instantly strode over to the door that was held partially open. And she witnessed the whole group of bodyguards shuffling tiredly down the stairs, and she glared at Rainie and asked pointedly, "I thought there are only two guarding each time at pivotal shifts? Why's the whole cohort hiding around here?"

The girl stared back at her, her eyes growing wide in dismay, and she immediately scuttled off, hurrying the rest down as quickly as she could, but then she tripped and fell on top of the burliest one of them who proceeded to cause the domino effect on the rest, and Cagalli, positioned atop the staircase and still frowning, saw an entaglement of limbs and various pained 'owws'. And she sighed and closed the door.

But she was seething inside, and when she got home, she cleared all the locks with a vengeance and forcefulness that surprised even her. His coat was hanging neatly by the door, his shoes nicely placed at the side, but she ignored all this and threw every thing in a heap, not bothering to clear up, and she stormed up the stairs and headed through the three corridors until she reached their room. And she flung it open, half-expecting him to be dozing away, but she found it empty, and spotted his briefcase at the desk.

She stood foolishly in the doorway, and then she thought of someting and hurried down another set of long, stretched corridors and tunred a corner int he extensive house, and then she paused at the drawing room and placed her ear next to it. A second later, she shrieked as it was opened and Athrun stood there gazing down at her.

Catching her breath, she hurriedly took a step back, but he looked at her calmly and said blithely, "Why don't you come on in? There's no point standing outside the door and trying to catch me working by hearing some sounds of my fingers typing on the keybord." He would infuriate her if he could, only Athrun Zala knew the exact way to lance the boil.

"Y-you," she began in a helpless rage, but he ventured forward and pulled her in, shutting the door, and she was int he cool, airy drawing room, it's curtians drawn by the impending night aparrent in its very air.

"Yes?" he asked listlessly, unfazed by the helplessness that washed over her face, mroe disturved by the next expression that returned as some sort of anger mixed with disbelief and worst still- mistrust.She stalked right in, leaving him to close the door and she turned sharply on her heel to face him. He towered over her still, she wasn't as diminutive as Lacus, but next to him, she might as well have been.

Breathing sharply, she stood her ground and burst out angrily, "Why did you go against my wishes?"

He stared at her for a minute or two, watched her breathing heavily, her chest rising in rage, and he answered, as cool as a cucumber, damn Athrun,"To protect you."

"I don't need protection, I have plenty, besides, I'm not a weak, helpless damsel-in-distress or any of those bloody things!" she stormed, her gestures becoming more violent and obviously angry.

Athrun sighed a bit and took her by the shoulders, then he looked directly at her and said seriously, "I never once thought that you were incapable of protecting yourself. It's just that-"

"That what?" she countered, mollified only by the weariness that drifted like a cloud over his face, making his handsome features slightly melancholic. And Cagalli wondered if she was she too difficult to love, if she was taking this too far, and if he would tire of her if she chose to stand her ground and not compromise in the slightest.

The next thing she knew, he had pulled her to him, and she was locked in an unwilling embrace, not knowing that the more she thrashed and grinded against him, the more she hurt him. But he held on tightly, ignoring her spluttering, so reminiscent of the first time he had held her when they had been on the Archangel, and he whispered, painfully soft, "You've made me become a very selfish person."

And she suddenly understood why he was doing all this, even at the expense of her trust and the expense of the knowledge that she was more than capable of protecting herself. Athrun wanted to eliminate all possiblities of her defeators at all costs, because he needed her. And that meant sacrificing many things to go against her wishes and protect her for the sake of keeping her by him. It was selfish, yes, to him and the rest, but to her, it was suddenly immensely flattering, and she pulled away, noting the crestfallen look in his eyes.

Then she pulled away, but only to pull him down to her to kiss him, and then she said embarrassedly and quite awkwardly, "Thank you."

He managed to smile then, and she ventured to say, "But I don't want to trouble anyone just to make sure Thornier doesn't come after me. Chances of him having forgotten all about his intentions are quite high, especially since they regularly pour drugs down his throat to keep him stable and inevitably, a sort of bunny-lover."

"Right," he laughed, amused at her stereotype of all calm, good natured people, she based too much on Lacus' standards alright, but then he sobered almost immediately and said morosely, "But I still think you should be a bit more careful. He'll be released tomorrow, I don't want anything to happen while we're apart."

"Nothing will," she assured him impatiently, brushing away his concerns as if they were a fly with a quick swish of her hand, "The security isn't exactly lax at the Parliament House, not when I'm officially working there at least."

Then she granted him a grin that rendered him speechless because of its radiance, and Athrun remembered something and asked mildly, "How'd you find out that I planned extra security measures with Kisaka and Amagi anyway?"

Cagalli glanced at him and burst out laughing, and then she chortled so much that she had to sit down and rest against the sofa's legs, but that wasn't enough either, she proceeded to roll arund until she was lying on her back and panting helplessly while staring at the ceiling. He sta down too, more evenly than her, obviosuly, and he watched her breathing and sinking into the soft fur of the carpet, closing her eyes in luxurious pleasure.

"Stupid, really," Cagalli muttured, still staring at the ceiling, "I kept hearing scuttling sounds outside the room, so I figured there were more than two guards outside. Then I tried checking, but somehow, I saw only two by the time I opened the door, but there was a slip and I saw that one of them was different from the one I had seen about five minutes ago. So I smelt a rat. Then when I left for work, I told Rainie to tell them all to go, and the girl was terribly absent-minded, she went and opened the door, stuck her head out, and yelled for all of them to go home. And I saw the entire crew of them troop off from various points around the office itself when there should have been only two or three at most. Didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what you had planned, did it?"

"Bloody hell," Athrun responded bitterly, "We tried it out for a day and you found out in a day. It's a terrible record. I ought to give them personal training. Who,on earth goes sneaking around by trampling on the stairs for the whole of East Eurasia to hear?"

"Oh it's not that bad, honey," she mocked, sitting up and crouching nearer to him, chuckling at his sightly glum expression, "They just aren't very good at sneaking around, unlike you."

Athrun frowned, thinking about what she had said, and then he suddenly coloured a little when he realised the extent of her words, and then he asked awkwardly, "Since when do you call me honey?"

"I don't," she retorted cheerfully, "Couldn't you tell it was sarcasm?"

"Oh," he said dumbly, "Alright."

Sensing a shift in the mood, Cagalli decided to take advantage of it and collapsed on him, and she pressed her ear harmlessly against his chest and heard him chuckle, the sound rumbling pleasantly against her cheek. He let her hug him like a child, hanging onto him almost like a koala bear, since it was quite novel for her to show so much open affection, in fact, he quite enjoyed it. She was like him in that sense, they abstained from any overt affection, but it was obvious that Athrun couldn't get on without her, and hopefully, he thought, she was in the same position as him. He fiddled with her hand, holding it in his much larger one and he ran his fingers over the smooth wrist, regretting how roughly he had held her days ago. But she had forgiven him, and that made it slightly more difficult to swallow than before.

"Promise me that you won't go carvorting around and attempting to do anything stupid," he ordered her, propping her up on his chest where she had tried to doze off and was beginning to slide down. She opened her eyes with a start and uplifted her face to him, directly and with very little to cover her real emotions.

And she might have told Athrun that she wasn't going to do anything foolish or allow anything to jeopardise their happiness. And she could have told him that she wasn't a three year old who didn't know any better. So she trusted herself to do as he said, do as she deemed fit but lay off the borders where her actions would be considered stupid by him.

But she rested, basking in his warmth, and let him caress her cheeks, and she smiled comfortingly at him.

She could have told him that she had already made plans to speak to Thornier, with guards and all of course, she wasn't going to do 'anything stupid'.

But she didn't.


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I don't own GS/GSD or their characters. R&R please.

* * *

Chapter 8 

He was moving out of bed, she could sense this even when she was half in a slumber, and she cracked open her eyes, trying to clear the blur in front of her.Athun's hair was a little mussed, she personally thought it looked adorable, but she was too tired to comment. She rolled over, she had a habit of changing her sleeping poses every time during the night, and there was once when she had kicked Athrun off and he had pulled her down while trying to grasp onto something to break his fall. They had ended up sleeping on the floor that night because he was too tired to make her get off him. And the next morning, they had been sore all over, their necks, their backs, their arms, their shoulders, but it hadn't mattered at all.

Funny then, how he never minded being cramped in a cockpit for long hours, moving only his arms and occasionally, his legs. It seemed obvious to everyone that he was a good pilot, but then she knew he was just needed to, possibly an instinct in itself. He manouevered very well, and it was apparent that he was a crack-shot with a pistol, unlike her, she was better with rifles and long-range types, and the way he fought made her think of a cat, feline, graceful, fluid in its movements. But he was awkward in his ways, fairly so, and his first proposal and the offering of the silver band with its ruby made her insides burn with embarrassment and their, no other word for it there, unprofessionalism.

She giggled a bit now at the memory of their clumsiness, and Athrun, preparing to move out of the room, noticed the sound and whipped around.

Athrun paused slightly, he realised that she had woken, and he asked softly, his voice a little hoarse from the lack of use and the usual morning kink, "I woke you didn't I? Sorry about it, go back to sleep."

"No," Cagalli protested dumbly, sitting up very suddenly and hitting her head on the headboard, and she yelped and winced in pain as he hurried back to the bed and pulled her head forward to see if she was injured, "I need to get up with you too!"

He didn't hear her, he was too busy checking her head and shuffling her hair this and that way, meticulously examining it and rubbing it this way and that way to check if she had sustained any injuries, silently fussing over her until she growled in irrataion and forcefully grabbed him by his tie, hauling him in the way she would have reeled in a fish attached to a line. Astonished and fankly, caught unaware, Athrun fell in a terrible heap, and he would have exclaimed something if she hadn't shut him up by throwing the covers over both of them and hugging him very tightly, murmuring something he couldn't hear. And she nuzzled plaintively against him, inhaling his dinstincitve, tender scent, somehow addicted to the masculine comfort she obtained as he chuckled a bit and encased her in a tight but infinitely tender embrace. She laughed for no reason as they huddled in their warmth amidst the thick quilts, and she noticed he looked a bit pleased, almost smug.

They remained like that for a while until Athrun spoke again. And his voice was a little gruff and unsure, but she didn't care what he thought of her at that point in time.

"You're being a child," he informed her smilingly, and Cagalli promptly let go of him and glowered, and he thought that she suddenly didn't look so child-like anymore, not as simple and as naive. She was a woman already, of course that was obvious, she was twenty-three in the making. But it wasn't so much the physical age, she had allowed herself to be binded to Athrun, and that had moulded her like a pice of clay in more ways than one. There were times when she dreamt that she was like a moth, its wings spun from fire and passion and consumed by its own very heat. And he had fuelled that hadn't he? But Athrun, he had taught her perspectives of looking at life she would have never been able to see without him, but then, so had she. And so he gazed down at her once more and recaptured her in his arms a few seconds later, and subsequently, they lay there comfortably for a few more minutes until Athrun knew he could procrastinate and indulge no longer.

He parted Cagalli's small hands from his neck and moved slowly and reluctantly from under the covers, tyring not to feel anguish at the loss of the previous warmth and pleasure, but he fetched his things, almost regretfully, turned at the doorway, and ordered her gently, "Get some sleep, you have a while more to rest."

She looked at him, not saying anything, but she half-nodded and ducked under the covers, blindly pulling the blankets over her head until she looked like a covered corpse. But not before he managed to cease her descent under by seizing the quilts when they reached her chin, and he kissed her, a possesive, fiery one, and she didn't respond, she just looked at him blankly and disappeared underneath. So Athrun shrugged, thinking that she was tired or something to that effect, and then he smiled wryly to himself and went on his way.

But Athrun could have never known why she had woken early, the same time as him and been exceptionally affectionate. He might have suspected that it was her way of saying, "I'm sorry," but it wasn't fair or natural to suspect what Cagalli was going to do that day.

So he left and the rest of the day passed faster than he imagined and he thought he would go home and find her waiting for him, dozing with her head lolling at her shoulder, looking peaceful and untroubled.

Approximately four hours after Athrun had left, Cagalli sat at a wooden table, a shoddy thing of poor workmanship, trying not to shiver at the grimness and dull-coloured walls that desperately needed a white-wash or evne two for good measure. Kisaka stood behind her, almost protectively, almsot as if to dare someone to try and harm her. She sighed inwardly, the huge man would break a few bones just to prove his point, and she was grateful for his support, but surely this was-?

"I can't believe you're doing this," the burly, well-built man was grumbling, his eyes closed in dismay. She peered at him and imagined that he must ot want to look at her in case she became the object he wished to strangle like a chicken for dinner's soup.

Frowning, she turned to him and barked, "Stop it! You said you wouldn't pass judgement, you said you'd only follow me and make sure he doesn't try anything funny."

"True," Kisaka replied thougtfully, passing a brown, tanned hand over his forehead which had showed a few wrinkles lately, he was getting on with age, and she saw that his dark hair had streaks of gray here and there, and Cagalli was suddenly remorseful, but she clamped her mouth shut and bit her lips a little. They tasted cold.

"I know I said that," he was continuing blandly, "But wouldn't speaking to Thornier even hours before his release still be considered breaking a promise to Athrun? And you know Athrun wouldn't approve of this. It's obvious enough without me pointing that out, and you aren't a foolish woman, Chairman, you're intelligent even by Coordinator standards in all honesty, of course, provided you don't lose your temper and become a bull in some unlucky china shop, but then again, you don't need someone like me to say something like this."

Curling her fists into balls, Cagalli tilted her head a little and closed her eyes to, trying not to think of Athrun and what he had promised her not to do. She wasn't exactly breaking the promise either, she had Kisaka, didn't she? Of course she was perfectly able to defend herself if Thornier tried anything funny, which was highly unlikely anyway, he had tranquilisers injected almost every four hours, and Kisaka was there to back her up in addition. So she wasn't really doing anythign stupid by requesting that she speak to Jun Thornier hours before his release, the parole granted because of his good behaviour. The reports had said that he was recovering splendidly from manic depression, was it not? So what were the odds of him killing her and Athrun finding out?

A seocnd later, a sound rattled her out of her thoughts and she watched cautiously as a man was led in by officers. His hands weren't bound, but there were two , and she felt smore than a little apprehensive, but he was seated before her in an instant and Thornier was looking at her and smiling. Imagine that! Smiling!

"Nice to meet you," he said politely, and his eyes had the sort of dazed look she knew was achieved only with a few tranquilisers, and she muttured a bit laggedly, "Same."

There was a pregnant pause and they stared at each other, and she noticed that his brown eyes were limpid but weary all at once. Jun Thornier, who knew if he was sane or not? Certainly, he had pleaded to be medically unsound, and half the tests had proven true, but the other half, she didn't know. They had passed him off as a slightly insane person, suffering from the throes of manic depression, and that meant they couldn't execute him even though he had tried to kill Cagalli on national television, didn't it? She hadn't been too bothered about the outcome, in fact, she had been relieved that he wouldn't be killed because he was a victim of war himself, he had lost his mind in some aspect of some kind, she wouldn't try and fault him for that. But now, it was different.

He had been an EA Berlin citizen, in fact, he had struck when she was there, nearly close to two years ago. Then he had been brought into the jail for imprisonment after the death sentence had been wavered on account of his mental instability. And Cagalli might ahve forgotten about him, except that she couldn't, and she felt fear when she looked into his eyes, those fathomless pits of nothing. Getting away from work was difficult, but Kisaka had arranged the swiftest shuttle to bring her here to make the dinstinction between sanity and insanity. It was difficult, but she had to do it, if not for herself, then for Athrun.

She had to be sure Thornier was sound when he was released, sane with the help the drugs provided gave to him. Because if he wasn't and he still bore a strange grudge she was still trying to grasp and understand, then-

Feeling an urgent need to continue what she had set out to do, Cagalli swallowed a little and gulped, then she spoke as evenly as possible, addressing Thornier, "Do you know who I am?"

"Sure I do," he answered immediately, almost happily, the grin on hsi face was bright, idiotic even, "I watch television in here you know. You're the Supreme Commander of ORB, of course I know that! You can't expect me not to!"

"Right," Cagalli repeated helplessly, "And would you like to introduce yourself?"

"No need," he murmured, his eyes fixated on her neck, and she felt the fine hairs at the back standing on their ends, "You know who I am and therefore came to see me before I was released. I'm not an idiot."

"I never said that," she interrupted hurriedly, "I suppose I came here to tak to you because I wanted to make sure you were fine and could adjust well-,"

"So I wouldn't try to kill you again?" Thornier asked gleefully, and she saw, with terror rising like a wave in her, that his eyes held an inhumanly terrible glint, but a second later, it was gone, and she wondered if she was seeing things. It wasn't possible anyway, she told herself hurriedly, trying to calm the frenzied beating and the erratice pulse, he had tranquilisers, he wouldn't be crazy and a lunatic and attempt to kill her and everything.

"Look here," she said forcefully, more forcefully than she had meant to sound, "I came here to find out why you disapprove of Coordinators co-habitating with Naturals."

" Of course," Thornier replied gently, almost talking to a child he was affectionate towards, "My parents were Naturals living in a Coordinator dominated area and they got killed. My relatives had the same fate, and then the neighbours, of course three times of the same experiment with the same results proves that we shouldn't put rabbits and wolves together."

"But that was in the past!" she protested loudly, forgetting that she had meant to be controlled and cool and all that, "I mean, look at the world now! It's fine isn't it? Why should you hate me because I believe in what is true? The results speak for themselves!"

He snickered at her, and looked like he was going to say something, but his eyes were limpid again as he murmured, "I don't hate you. I only hate everything that encourages Coordinator-natural relations. They aren't meant to work."

"Stop it," she demanded angrily, her temper flaring and something quite ugly on her face, "That means you don't approve of the world as it is now, that is equivalent to being against everything I stand for. And you say relations like that aren't meant to work? I know what you're talking about, you- You leave us, no you leave him alone!"

And the next thing she felt was Kisaka grabbing her hand and pulling her out, the legs scrapping indignatnyl agains the cold floor as she was led out, half-forcefully by him. But as she was hauled off, she remembered screaming her throat hoarse, like she was the mad one, like she had no more sense, like she was the one who ought to have been nursed with tranquilisers instead of the lunatic who sat elegantly before her, smiling tranquilly. Five hours later, a good shaking from Kisaka, and two steaming cups of tea later, Cagalli sat in her office back in ORB, her head in her hands.

She considered calling Athrun and checking to see if her was alright, but then if she did, he'd know she had gone and spoken to Thornier. He wouldn't forgive her, that she was sure of.

Exhausted suddenly, Cagalli ran her hands through her hair, and she was so rough in her actions, she felt silky golden threads being yanked loose and entwined around her fingers. A glimmer of silver teased her, and she took the ring off slowly, feeling the band of metal lose its hold on her finger. Then she trembled violently and she leant back in her chair, recalling the way Jun Thornier had looked. His eyes were so wise and so cold. He wasn't irrational now, he was rational and she suspected that he wanted something. Was he even mad now? Was he sane? Was he trying to pull the wool over her eyes and harm all of them now?

But she'd protect Athrun,didn't she declare that she would in the first war, even when she had been a fool at sixteen?

And now she was twenty-three and still a fool for him.

Before she had been dragged out and Thornier brought back to his cell to be prepared to leave the place, her tormented screams had filled the air.

She had screamed, "Leave him and I alone! Leave him and I alone! Leave him-"

And silence had subsequently replaced the screams once she was brought away from Jun Thornier. Tears were welling in her eyes, threatening to spill down her cheeks, and she put her empty styrofoam cup on the trya Kisaka had left there and brushed them away, impatientl;y and angrily. She had better things to do then cry and despair. Cagalli Yula Atha wasn't a princess in a tower, she told herself angrily, biting her lips again, she just wasn't.

Flipping open her cellphone, she jammed her fingers on the buttons and with shaking fingrs held the device, wiaithg for the operator to put her through. A minute later, Cagalli's insturctions were whizzing through the lines, and her bodyguards were nowhere in sight. All but two, had departed for the ZAFT base.Their priority was no longer her, it was Athrun Zala.


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I don't own GS/GSD or their characters. R&R please.

* * *

Chapter 9 

It was all very strange to Athrun. He had been sitting at his desk, writing a report, and he had heard sound outside his window. Sounds of whirrings and buzzings a bit like a camera outside his window. Of course ZAFT/ORB had a dozen of those, just that he knew his office wasn't supposed to have any, not even considering that the sounds were coming from the outside where he might have expected a crane to reach it with some difficulty.

Considering that his office was on the sixth floor, it was all very strange.

But he hadn't any time to waste, so he continued and pressed a button, and then he spoke authoratatively into the device. His secretary answered, and she even had the cheek to use a saucy tone with him. Of course she did, she was working long hours and was quite irritable, but then if that was the case, then wasn't he entitled to show some attitude too, especially when she was single and he had someone waiting back home for him? Not just anyone, mind you, Cagalli Yula Atha was a person he didn't want to let go off so easily. But he ignored her and spoke mildly, "Bring in the papers, and while you're at it, do check what's going on outside at my window. Try to spot a camera or anything of that sort."

"Sure," his secretary replied flippantly, and he was sure that she was painting her nails scarlet or plum or some hooker-esque, frivolous colour. It wasn't like Athrun to think badly of most girls, but she was the kind who one didn't want to be closely assosciated with, and having someone like Cagalli as his wife to compare to either didn't help. His secretary was attractive if you were the kind who liked that sort, he shuddered at that point, but once again, he had Cagalli and to see anyone else but her was quite frankly, the things only lunatics and idiots or blind people did.

'Or deaf ', he thought humourlessly as he heard her cackling like a witch at some crass, nonsensical joke she was reading from a magazine. Athrun had considered sacking her at some point in the past, but he had been too bogged down by his work to bother. Come to think of it, the reason why he was so overladden with all that was probably the issue of his secretary itself, it was quite overtly known that she didn't exactly accomplish stellar work.

"Chairman," she grinned coquettishly, probably practising for the new recruits, he thought amusedly, "Here are the papers. Oh, and don't worry about the ongoings in the camp, it's just some random soldiers firing shots for practice in the grounds and some filming going on for the documentary. The clerk downstairs told me they'll be airing it in a week's time, so they need some footage."

Athrun gazed absently at her and didn't bother reminding her to knock the door, he just couldn't be bothered.And as she passed him the stack of papers, he noticed that her ZAFT uniform was modified again. What had it been the last time, oh, right, a miniskirt like Lunamaria's except it was black, now it was some kind of flouncy white one with the midriff bared. He spared her the honour of his comments and smirked when she left. But he realised he would have to speak to her soon, he didn't want any rumours of any kind. Yzak would use it to hit him under the belt if they weren't quashed fast.

But something still was unsettling. Since when did the soldiers practise so near the offices? He flipped through the pile and selected those relevant ones, since his secretary had conveniently left the editing out. Sighing heavily, he scribbled some notes here and there and scanned his eyes over the picture board at the side.

Photographs of Kira and Lacus smiling and waving cheerfully at the camera, there was one of him and Yzak, Yzak actually allowing a sort of half-grimace, half-grin, but his eyes were very honest and sincere. There was one of Shiho and Cagalli, previously conversing at a the Joule's annual ball, both looking directly into the camera. Shiho looked none too pleased about the interruption, she was glaring at it as if it were a poisonous snake as she reluctantly raised her glass in a toast, and there was Cagalli looking very startled. Athrun hadn't warned them that he was taking his photograph, he had just taken it. Shiho looked miffed, but then she always looked a bit unsettled, but Cagalli was wide-eyed and her lips parted in surprise. He liked that picture of them, no practised smiles, no artifice, just them.

And there was one of him and Kira that Dearka had obligingly taken, they were standing next to each other, holding glasses, Kira in his wedding suit and looking very gallant, he was handsome already, but at his wedding, he looked like the poster-boy for well-bred tycoon and all that, except Kira really wasn't that. The final one was of Cagalli that he had coerced her into taking for him, she sat on a long armchair with her legs crossed, looking the part of the princess and of the lineage she was born with. Her hair was slightly long then, so it touched a bit lower than her shoulders which were incidentally bare because of her dress. He hadn't been too pleased about that, actually, she had been at some function of some nature he couldn't recall offhand, and they had been already married by then, the ring glinted, resting snugly upon her finger. Her smile was unsure, shy even, but her eyes were bright and hopeful, and there was a fine black string around her beautiful neck. If he squinted hard enough, he could make out a white shell. His white shell.

An abrupt knocking made him purse his lips irritably, and he looked up at the secretary who had somehow remembered to knock this time.

"What is it?" he demanded, trying not to sound rude. For Pete's sake, wasn't a man even allowed to daydream and think of his wife sometimes?

"Sorry," she said, not sounding sorry at all, "There's a call from Sir Kisaka. He says it's urgent and he won't take no for an answer."

Frowning, Athrun nodded, remaining rooted in his chair. A second later, the phone rang and he picked it up unwillingly and held it to his ear. Kisaka's voice, firm and loud filled his ears.

"The Princess has been out of ORB until half an hour ago," Kisaka began, and there was a trace of uncertainty in his voice. Athrun stared at the photograph he had been looking at and closed his eyes briefly, not trusting himself to say anything. He was silent, praying that Kisaka wouldn't continue yet, he was sure he wouldn't take well too it. Thankfully, his prayers were answered. And when Athrun trusted hiself enough to speak again, he did, but it came harsher than either of them expected.

"You brought her to see Thornier didn't you?"

It was like a whip. He could somehow, sense Kisaka flinching, involuntarily.

"Forgive me," the man replied humbly, but it didn't mollify Athrun in the least. His hand twitched and he spoke again, his tone very sharp, hiswords likewise, "She made you take her, didn't she? And what made you tell me only at this at this juncture?"

"She's been foolish, that I must admit she has been, and she forbid me from telling you," Kisaka interrupted urgently, "But she was afraid of angering you, that was precisely why she requested that I accompany her to meet Thornier without you knowing. You know her better than I do, you know someone like the princess would have settled things on her own, you are aware that she is full of pride, she won't accept help unless she's desperate and-"

"Don't tell me what I already know," Athrun hissed, irrational in his rage, "She's safe, don't dare tell me otherwise."

"She is," Kisaka agreed wearily, "Don't you dare tell me not to let her be either. I may not be in the same position as you are, sir, but I watched the princess grow up, I'm not about to allow her to get slaughtered by some lunatic if you please."

There was a long silence. Neither man spoke up. And Athrun's knuckles were white, as white as his very bones, and his grip on the phone was so tight, it was starting to cause him physical pain.

Athrun cleared his trhoat and spoke up again, "I apologise Kisaka. It wasn't fair to behave the way I just did."

"No matter," the man replied, sounding as unsettled as Athrun had mere seconds ago, "Now, the most important thing is that we take precise, careful steps. We must be vigilant, something about Thornier today made me, and still makes me, mind you, suspect that he's sane somewhere in that strange mess of convolluted thoughts. And if he's sane, then he could be more dangerous than ever."

"Affirmed," Athrun responded heavily, sinking back into the chair, rubbing his temples with a hand that didn't feel exactly like his in any case.

"But first," he continued softly, closing his eyes painfully, "Tell me what Cagalli has been up to."

"I'm sorry sir," Kisaka cut in immediately, "That's for her to tell you, and all I can reveal at this stage is that she has reassigned the bodyguards to you. She has Rainie and another one by her now, the rest have been sent to station and be vigilant around the camp. Or if I were to be more specific, the office you are sitting in."

Athrun listened and swore softly. The sounds he had heard weren't the rifle practices being filmed, he was the subject of the filming. So that explained it.

"Thank you sir," Athrun said stiffly, "You will now kindly call them back to Cagalli. She needs more protection than she thinks. And I trust you to be part of that. I will speak to her this evening. I am grateful once again."

And he slammed down the phone and looked at the photograph of Cagalli sitting and smiling at him unsurely. The rage was building in some part of him. He could never be numb and emotionless when it concerned her. All the deactivation of feelings to leave only pure killing instinct as a soldier didn't work when Cagalli was concerned, and strangely he had welcomed it, even felt alive when she was by him. But then, she had lost his trust now.

He swept his things into his bag, too troubled to even be pleased that he had finished his duties. But Athrun paused at the doorway, watching his secretary with baleful eyes, and when she noticed he was looking at her, she dropped the magazine she had bene idly browsing though and stuttered, "Are you g-going now sir?"

"What does it look like with my case in my hands?" he asked bitingly, "To the restroom or something?"

And he swept off angrily, ignoring Yzak and Shiho who passed by him in the corridor. He had meant to talk to them, especially since they were here so rarely to visit the bilateral military grounds ORB and ZAFT's troops were cojoined in, even though Yzak was amongst the most highly-viewed Commanders and Shiho an acclaimed test pilot. ZAFT just didn't believe in field trips.They spotted him and hastily slauted as a greeting and Athrun did the same with a fair amount of impatience, and they both sensed that he wasn't about to stop and chat as he swept past them brusquely. He could feel his friends' eyes boring into his back, but he didn't give a damn and moved swiftly towards his vehicle.

Behind him, Yzak was scowling, quite an ugly, comical one really, and he turned to look and Shiho and said crossly, "What's eating Zala now? He looked like someone slapped extra taxes on him."

"Don't ask redundant questions Commander," Shiho replied mildly, "You know that only a few things can get to Athrun Zala, and the taxes are fortunately, or unfortunately, not one of those."

"Let's see," Yzak interrupted sarcastically, "His parents, mummy's boy that he is, oh, and his friends and of course, the main cause of his undending-angst."

"Let not the pot call the kettle black, Commander," she interjected coolly, staring straight at him, "Firstly, you're a mummy's boy too, don't try and prove otherwise, there's nothing to prove with everything out in the open anyway. And in case you thought we all didn't know, newsflash: we do. And so do your troops, they all know the Commander Joule is a mummy's boy.You're not exactly a nice angelic boy either, you're a downright punk half the time too. And we both know that Athrun Zala gets worked up over none of the above in the recent years, so that leaves only Cagalli Yula Atha."

"Obviously," Yzak snorted, stalking off in a bit of a temper, Shiho trailing a bit laggedly behind, "He and the Princess of ORB. She probably committed a few murders to get him so angry, since he would have forgiven her with murder and arson combined, or perhaps the girl must have done something stupid to have gotten under his skin like that."

He didn't know how much truth his words had struck the very second he had uttered them.

Back at home, Cagalli sat in her usual seat, waiting for Athrun. She was a nervous wreck, her nerves badly frayed and her heart palpitating. The fire was lit but she felt strangely cold, and she had shredded a tissue that she snatched up for no good reason. Then she heard the safety locks move into activation, and she promptly flung herself out of the chair and rushed to the door, flinging it wide opn to reveal Athrun standing there, his palm outstreched. He had been preparing to go through the safety locks, and the other hand held the briefcase. But his handsome countenace was more serious now than anything, and something lurked beneath the calm he exhibited.

Not knowing what to say, they stared at each other for a while until Cagalli could bear it no longer and pulled him in, slamming the door shut and hearing the safety locks activate in a complicated series of clicks and whirrings and beeps.

Feeling terribly unsure of herself, she began hesitantly, "How was your day?"

"Fine," he replied, and his voice was somehow bitter, "More importantly, how was yours?"

"Fine," she started to say as well, but he cut in unexpectedly before Cagalli could speak, and his words were biting, "Of course, your day was busy. Cavorting around and doing foolish things I thought you were wise enough not to do, and truth be told, I didn't even imagine you would do. But you do realise that your little expedition today was as foolhardy as opening the door without checking it wasn't a lunatic with a gun or something?"

His question was left hanging in the air and he was staring at a fascinating spot behind her, not looking at her, not daring to in case he lost his temper completely. Ohterwise, he might have done something unforgivable to the one person he would have given up his life for, if she had only put her arms around him, kissed him, and made that request.

Cagalli stared at him, aghast in horror, but then anger swept over her uncontrollably, and she exclaimed in a jumble of words, "Don't say that! I knew it was you at the door, and about today, I-, Kisaka told you about it, I told him not to!"

"I'm glad he did what he did today," Athrun interrupted harshly, looking straight at her for the first time that evening, "Otherwise, I would have been kept in the dark for a longer time and made a bigger idiot than anyone else."

"How could you say that?" Cagalli demanded rashly, "I did what I did for our sake! I had to be sure Thornier wasn't going to come and set up some trap once he was released, didn't I? And what I did was- what I did, I don't think it went against your wishes, it wasn't anything stupid, was it? And even if it was in your eyes, what's it to you?"

And she realised what she had spewed out in her anger and in the heat of the moment, and her eyes grew wide in horror when the full extent of her careless words hit her hard. She looked at him, afraid at what she would see, and found her fears confirmed. He didn't look livid or anything of that sort, in any case, Athrun rarely lost his temper. Now he just looked emotionless, like he was trying to pretend he hadn't heard her say all that awful things that she had irrevocably did. And that made her more guilty than if he had raised his voice and shouted at her.

They sat there in a sort of pregnant silence that she loathed with all her being until she felt too tired and too miserable to continue keeping up the pretense. She didn't know what to say either, so she managed a weak, "I'm going to sleep now," and without looking at him, Cagalli ran, helter-skelter, up the long, winding stairs into her old bedroom. She hadn't slept there after she had married him, it was very strange how it contained all her old things, virtually untouched, and how her new bedroom was down another separate corridor in the same, big house. But now she would sleep there, because Cagalli didn't know how to face him.

And Cagalli didn't cry, she was too proud and fierce for that. But the realisation that her marriage wasn't going exactly like in the story books made her stomach drop as she sat on her bed, trying to think of what to do next. Subsequently, she was saved the trouble, because the footsteps outside the corridor were approaching and becoming louder, and Athrun was in the room before Cagalli could snap her fingers and think of what she could do best in the strange, remote situation.

She could barely make his features out, it was semi-darkness but she could still sense his presence and the stiffness around him. Why was he always so remote and foreign when he was unhappy, why didn't he just let it all out at one go, she wondered silently, still sitting int he darkness and trying to pretend she didn't exist. Then Athrun spoke, and his voice was emotionless.

"You lied to me," he stated. He could have said it accusingly like she might have if she were standing there like him, but he didn't. Athrun might have shouted and railed or ranted, but he didn't either. And that stung more than if he had slapped her across her cheek. She looked up at him, glad there was some form of a shield so he wouldn't see she was trying not to sniffle, and Cagalli protested softly, "No, I didn't."

"You lied to me," he repeated, and he voice shook a little, and the bed creaked sadly as he sat down, next to her. Cagalli looked at him, and he pressed closer to her, and some light illuminated half his face, and she felt the pain in his eyes.

She wet her lips, making a failed attempt to restart a sentence and explain that she hadn't exactly gone and done anything stupid against his wishes, because it was all subjective. And she wanted to tell him that she had Kisaka to help her and that she had done what she did because she wanted to fulfil her promise and keep him safe. But all words failed as Athrun spoke up first.

"You can lie to anyone," he said evenly, guiding her by the shoulders so she faced him in that all-essential darkness where they couldn't see each other very well but were beginning to see better, their eyes getting used to the darkness by now, "You can lie to your ministers, you can lie to Kira, you can lie to Lacus, you can lie to anyone, but don't-"

"Don't what?" she spat, provoking him without knowing what she was really doing in the darkness.

"-don't ever, ever lie to me," he ended evenly, still cupping her shoulders tightly, and his voice was still calm, but she detected a termendous strain in it.

And she made a decision in that split-second, and she threw her arms aorund him and hugged him very tightly. He was motionless, and she panicked for a while, thinking that he still held it against her, but then, his own arms coiled shyly around hers, and she managed very awkwardly, "Sorry for making you worry. But I did what I did because I didn't have a choice."

"What were you thinking?" he whispered in the darkness, "You went to see someone who tried to kill you before. What were you thinking?"

"I just wanted to make sure he didn;t have any intention of coming to hunt you down," she offered numbly, resting her head against his shoulder, "So I went to find him first."

"Why would he come after me?" Athrun asked in bewilderment, "Other than the fact that he might want revenge for his foiled assasination attempt, of course. But I'm relatively unknown compared to you, especially where his grudge is concerned."

"Not that," Cagalli explained wearily, still not letting go of him, "His next target could possibly be you because he has a strong grudge of any union of coordinators and naturals of any nature."

"But," Athrun began, and then he stiffened, understanding everything suddenly, and his grip on her shoulders were tighter than ever.

Then he drew in a deep breath and shook his head, and his voice was harsh.

"Let him come after me," he tried to assure her, "I don't believe I can't make him pay if he tries anything of that sort. You don't have to assign me your bodyguards, in fact, I think I make an efficient one already."

"No, not that either!" she cried impatiently, abruptly pushing herself off, "You don't understand that I can't have anything happening to you!"

And they both remembered the time they had spent on the Archangel, when they promised they'd protect each other after they had met again, as if fate had guided them back to each other. He hadn't meant to lose his heart to a rash, fiery, beautiful girl like her, but the irrevocable truth was that he already had, ironically after their first meeting on the island when he had tried to kill her. Meeting her again had been a sort of play by the Fates, and by that time, he had already defected from ZAFT and found himself growing dangerously attached to her during the first war on the Archangel.

Something wept in him, but all Athrun could do was guide her head to his chest and hold her there silently for a very long time.


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: I own nothing of Gundam Seed and Gundam Seed Destiny, which can be a blessing, because if you did, then you'd have legions of ASUCAGA fans waiting to kill you if you didn't get ASUCAGA sorted out.

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Chapter 8

She wanted to kill him.

Or not.

Perhaps, not something as drastic as murder, but a few tight slaps would do just fine. He looked at her emotionlessly, and she wondered if he was an automaton with Athrun's eyes or a man who had lost the ability to feel.

For Cagalli was trying her best not to scream, whip out the gun she had placed out of habit in her top drawer on the right of her fine mahogany desk her temporary office had, and fire it at the man who stood in front of her with a cold, grim semi-smile she loathed.

He was waiting for her response. The cheek he had.

She squeezed out a tight smile at him and then, found that her voice was relatively steady.

'If you compare it to Mount Etna, why not?' She thought sardonically.

But still, she had succeeded. She had mildly, with a regal air she had never known she could possess in her state, asked to be left alone to handle the work he had placed on her table. It wasn't the amount that upset her. With it, he had brought a newspaper of the event the night before.

"I told you," His eyes seemed to say. She hated it.

When he left, she calmly pushed her chair backwards so she could stand, then went to the side and made sure nobody was around to see her. And in an instant, Cagalli had made a very rude finger gesture at the stool, imagining he was the secretary she was forced to keep.

Benjamin Goebbels had been assigned as her personal assistant after she had officially become the Chairman of the united Emirates of ORB two years ago. She had no complaints. But come to think of it, she never had any. Not after she had married Yuna- that had been the icing of it all.

Sometimes, she was haunted by the memories that became dreams. But certain things were more important, their priority and crucial nature made it easier to forget.

It still pained her to see, everyday, that Goebbel's eyes were the exact same shade as another pair of eyes she had tried her best to forget about. Once, her desperation had been so acute that Cagalli had even considered replacing the secretary who had Athrun-sodding- Zala's green eyes.

She couldn't bear looking at the green eyes that she had tried so hard to not remember for the past two years, but Goebbels was terribly efficient if there ever had been an efficient person in ORB, and the way he handled the work assigned to him was wonderful. Truly. There was simply no other word to describe his machine-like abilities, he handled everything without a single complaint and he handled it perfectly. She often wondered if he ever perspired, but no, apparently not.

He could be a little stifling now and then, but had he not been there to instruct her on the best option of behaviour at the various press conferences and advised her to practise speaking in the impersonal, netural tone,, she would scarcely have gained such a foothold in ORB in such a short time. Not while condemning the Seirans anyway.

She vividly remembered explaining to the Houses in political power that the Seirans had betrayed them all. One had asked, "Is it a personal grudge?"

And she had replied, without a trace of emotion in her voice, the way h'd trained her to answer, "What is it in my face and voice that suggests that?"

Nothing, clearly nothing. Her entrails were burning inside as she spoke, calmly and deathly composed.

Without a singly doubt, her people respected her. There was something about being the princess that discounted her age and the mistakes that she'd made. And the polls had shown that very clearly, but on her part, Goebbels had said, she needed to improve herself to ensure the respect would be forever. And if that hadn't won her over, nothing else would.

She hadn't wanted to argue by that time, she had known that she had no more strength left. There was nothing to argue about, nothing to try and swim against in the current like this one. Because currents were there, always there, one couldn't beat against it the way she'd tried, like a boat, individual and always struggling to stay afloat, one simply had to follow the current.

In her heart, she knew she was like a simple rock, solid and real, but nothing could withstand the test of time and weathering elements in the end, let alone a single rock. She was the rock, she'd never be able to stay the same way and somehow survive.

Goebbels was a year older than her, and he had been raised in an ORB orphanage when his coordinator parents were killed in a scuffle in EA's territories near Heaven's Gate. Not that she cared about his past or anything personal to do with that, he was merely a valuable subordinate, although he did influence her barely existing personal life to a large extent.

He would instruct her how to behave, what to wear and not to run around as she had once loved to do. Not that she minded of course, it had proved successful so far even as she plunged into piles of paperwork after a Cabinet meeting every morning after a quick breakfast. Those were necessary, and she found that work wasn't a burden- it was a purpose. She was hardly a workaholic, rather, the desire to do her best was the motivation.

All the same, Cagalli had hardly any time left for her own leisure because of her fanatical management of the work. She could have requested for a change, in her heart, she knew Kisaka would have arranged it in a snap of his fingers, but it was for the best, she decided, if ORB could recover as quickly as it was doing now, which proved her efforts were successful.

She had gotten a long-distance call from Shinn last year, and his voice had been a little more mellow and deep, and she knew he had grown up.

Imagining him now was no mean feat. Supposing he had cut his unruly hair a little to reveal his eyes? Supposing his eyes were no longer narrowed with a deep loathing of the world around him, but were individual rubies, softened and forgiving? Supposing he'd found his redemption with those around him?

He had apologised for everything he had said and what he'd done, and his stammer had made her heart ache. She could do nothing more than to casually wave it off and told him she would like to see him again. Shinn had eagerly agreed and told her he would bring Lunamaria too, and she had raised her eyebrows while on the phone and said that she would like to see her very much too. She knew Lunamaria mollycoddled Shinn; Lunamaria was exactly that sort of girl. Not that Shinn minded of course.

Pausing to rub her eyes and take a break from the documents she had been reading, she strolled over to a nearby table where the newspapers of the morning had been placed, shaking her head and ruffling her hair before straightening it before Goebbels told her to himself with that slight frown of his.

She picked up the newspapers and smiled fondly at the four of them that had united last night, although the encounter had shaken her a fair bit where ETERNITY's chairman was concerned.

The night was a little hazy, like those memories that didn't come smoothly enough but with a glide here and there and a bump that was none too pleasant. And Cagalli suspected that she knew why.

She had tried to avoid him throughout the whole night, and she had wanted to throttle her brother when she found out that he had offered to help the organiser arrange the seating of the various guests, because she had bee placed directly opposite the man she was trying to avoid. Kira being helpful- a bit of a contradiction.

And Cagalli had wondered, just before she dozed off to sleep the night before, why Lacus had been wearing a pastel-green gown instead of the lavender one Kira had said she would be wearing in an effort for her not to clash with what the PLANT ambassador was wearing, but had placed the thought aside after seeing him again.

Athrun Zala.

He looked impeccable. He was already perfect before anybody's eyes could travel fully from his toes to his face, the lithe torso and the grace that flowed inherently and internally gave him a panther's rippling, slender power and the composure and confidence he exuded was that of a man who was desirable and not easily turned down.

She had almost wanted to turn and run on seeing him, although she had known he would be there. After all, he was PLANT's main Security Council's chairman; it'd have been a disgrace if he hadn't turned up. She could only thank Goebbels' thorough drilling and training that made her so fluid in her speech as she walked up to the platform to address the high ranking officials and important people there that night.

She had almost lapsed into a stammering upon seeing him, catching sight of him in his deep maroon suit, a lone figure stationary in the sea of colors and blinding jewels. He wore nothing in his pocket, not even a rose. But his eyes had been blazing forests in emerald lights.

Her mind hadn't registered anything that she was saying last night, everything was already in place like a memory disc, and all she had to do was regurgitate it out. She really didn't trust herself anymore after being thrown into a situation like that, and perhaps that had ruffled her so much that a nosebleed, which she hadn't had since she was thirteen, then started.

Naturally, Cagalli had been quite mortified when the blood had dripped down onto the pristine-white tablecloth. For a minute, she wanted to scream in anguish. The lace, once white, was a rust color.

She had felt that she was taking away the innocence of something else that didn't deserve to be soaked in blood and lies like she already was, and she thought that she had lost her mind for a split-second.

And Cagalli hadn't even protested when her wardrobe manager had told her to take out the only black dress she had in her closet and put it on. Rainie, her bodyguard, had tried to brighten her up by pining especially pretty pins on her hair, but Cagalli hadn't said anything even though she had refused to wear black almost all of her life because she was secretly afraid of the somber colour and its implications.

The dress had caught the light and swallowed it in its sea of ink that was its entire length. The stones on it were elegant but accomplices of the dark, drawing light to the dress only to have it reflect nowhere else but her face. And she had burned from inside, because she had felt thousands of eyes bore into her. She was used to it.

But it didn't make the difference.

When she had seen him again, she was glad that she had worn black. No light-colours that she had worn during their time together because she had been so happy she felt like singing about spring everyday. None at all. Just black. She had told him to leave her alone, but he didn't take heed.

That was Athrun Zala. Firm and used to having his way, somehow.

Cagalli paused and glanced at Athrun's smiling face that was directly placed in between Kira's and Lacus' faces. His smile was solemn, as if he knew something that he was prevented from speaking of, but something his thoughts were preoccupied with there and then. Solemn, his eyes grave and sharp, his face almost beautiful, his mouth very questioning and sad, but somehow not quite feminine either, something lurking about his face and the way he carried himself that was clearly deadly masculine and- attractive.

She quickly flipped the page.

She hadn't meant to throw her arms around him the night before after he had caught up with her while she had desperately tried to flee from him, so as to prevent any tantrums from blowing out. She hadn't lost her temper for two years, and she wasn't about to break her record.

But he had taken chances with her, and she wondered what he really wanted. Was he fulfilling something as a friend would?

And Cagalli never knew what people wanted these days, in the past she took their words at face-value, but Goebbels had trained her to second-guess everything they said as a good politician should do. She had wanted to scream that she wasn't supposed to be a bloody detective, but she had learnt his ways anyway. No wonder then, that she was being so paranoid about everything anyone said these days.

She flipped open the newspapers and ignored all the first four pages of articles summing up what had gone on last night at the congregation. It was bad enough that they had to discuss everything for the past few months, she wasn't about to read through everything again if she could help it.

Then Cagalli scanned through the back pages where the news was more likely to show pop stars than politicians, and suddenly spotted a sprightly red-haired model wearing the latest fall collection, in splashes of decadent golds and rich, almost cloying sepias, and the model featured forcibly reminded her of Meyrin. Not Luna, Luna had maroon hair, but Meyrin, her hair was that exact same shade of red.

She stared at the model's hair, snorting loudly when she saw that the roots were blonde. Dyed, obviously, because nobody could get hair as naturally intense-coloured as Meyrin's red hair unless they were from the Hawke family or had their genes tampered with. Which was probably what Meyrin's parents had done of course, she decided, and snorted at her own sense of irony.

Cagalli could have never hated Meyrin Hawke even if someone had taken a gun and pointed it at her just to get her to hate Meyrin. She had known the minute she laid eyes on the lovely sixteen-year old, that the girl was a lost one when it came to Athrun Zala.

He was good-looking, even Cagalli knew that. But he had a deep sensitivity that drew people near to him, his inscrutable ways, difficult to read, made people want to be near him, to know him. And she had seen Meyrin's eyes- wide and hopeful, wistful even. Because she understood Meyrin- that girl did not understand Athrun Zala yet, but had most of the pieces in her hands. But Meyrin Hawke didn't have the last piece yet, and the picture would never form.

And Cagalli had hoped that the last piece would be experience and time. So she had given the ring Athrun had gave her, although it pained her precisely, to know that the pain wasn't great when she gave the ring to Meyrin. At that time, only war and Orb had been on her mind.

But the girl had spunk and it helped that she was very beautiful and could hack computers as well as professionals. Come to think of it, Meyrin had been a professional hacker by the time she had hit eleven. The girl was obviously in love with Athrun, and Cagalli had known that almost intuitively. But she knew, all the same. Athrun was blind, but if Cagalli now tried to tell herself that if she allowed them more time, gave Meyrin time that might have been hers even without Cagalli's help, he would soon see.

Were they together now? Perhaps, in love and immersed in their own happiness and lives, even with Meyrin's youth being either an attraction or a sort of barrier?

Cagalli looked at the floor and sighed inwardly, not knowing what to think.

So she had allowed it, even going as far as to encourage it. But she never gave herself time to ask if she regretted it, she knew what the truth was, but she didn't allow herself to even venture into that particular danger-zone.

She staggered back to her seat in the office that had been lent to her for her stay in Earth Alliance's territory, and tried to get back to whatever she had been doing. She knew that the three days here were meant as a break, Lacus had arranged outings personally for her. But Cagalli had lost so much of what she had previously possessed, that work seemed like the only way to feel a sense of fulfillment when she could have gotten the same feeling by simply watching the sky even when she was in the midst of a war a few years ago.

Again, she wasn't a hopeless workaholic, the kind that was slave to her work. She was more than that. She would bleed for the land her father had died for, bleed willingly and bleed until she could offer nothing more for her people's happiness. And in doing that, she would live as she had been meant to.

She couldn't blame anyone. There was nothing to blame. She would have come to this situation- had she remained in her country, even if the war had never swept the world along with it, and her father left to live his life, she would have been forced to marry Yuna Roma Seiran sooner or later, and she'd have to answer to him as a husband and the power he would have yielded would have been immense but unsatisfactorily used. No- better she, Cagalli Yula Atha hold the reins, never mind the sacrifice.

Besides, she thought with a smirk, he was, in Kisaka's own words, a 'lily-livered pansy of a bastard fool.'

Cagalli snorted in the most un-lady like manner she could muster, but felt a wave of self-disgust rise up and threaten to overpower her when she realised her cheeks were warm from embarrassment of snorting. Why was she even embarrassed?

She felt her cheeks- warm like loaves of freshly baked bread, and she cringed inside. She didn't have to look to know their color.

Everything was becoming a fixed routine to her, her composed speech, her impeccable manners, her fine dresses that replaced the rather mannish suits she used to wear, and the uniform that she had once insistently donned had its bottom part replaced by a more feminine skirt in the military style to match the upper half. It looked like Muruue's now, it bared her knees and calves and gave her a womanliness she had never allowed to be bared for fear of something she did not quite understand either.

It was becoming of her, yes, she knew it was, intrinsically, what with the stares she had never quite gotten when she'd been donned in cargo pants in the desert, Not that she could that now anyway. Too much had changed, like those clocks that were frozen in denial, and then moved faster than ever once the ice of ignorance thawed. She was like that as well.

Had he known that?

Athrun had been upset. She knew that, she had endorsed it, in fact, she'd said the things she'd known he would surely have yelled at her, and he had, hadn't he? She had changed, but so had the world. Betrayal, disappointment, life's little ironies, bitter and sharp were like almonds she had taken and eaten, one by one, understanding the twinge of regret, the pain of bitter sweetness, all that the war had shown her, like so many others who had fought in it. She wasn't going to deny it herself, but she hadn't expected him to understand her anyway.

She had left the Archangel when they had set off to Messiah, and she had left as a changed person. She was going to keep up for as long as she could, perhaps forever. Yuna would have been surprised, she thought wryly. He had never seen her as someone who could lead, he had always assumed that she would be only good for a bit of a chase and a graceful descent into oblivion once the heirs had been produced, that sort of girl.

She was as sure as hell that she wasn't that sort.

But oh, how good it had been for her to knock Yuna Roma Seiran half-senseless that day! Even Kira hadn't tried to stop her, he knew she felt guilt for the state her country was in and how much she had blamed herself for the mistakes she had made.

Her eyes closed now, remembering the past.

Yuna had given her a string of magnificent pearls, milky and like individual moons, he had placed it around her neck himself, did the clasp with his fingers while she reluctantly held up her hair to expose the sensitive skin of her neck. And he had told her that she was his now and tried to kiss her; she had demurred. His wedding gift to her, Yuna had said, his eyes roving, excited, like a man who had suddenly know he would own the world, and his smile smug like he had obtained the sun and would know how to control it.

An hour later, she had been found in her room, quiet and pale, withdrawn, trying to sleep, trying to forget her betrayal, how she'd betrayed the one man she'd loved, and the pearls, worth a hundred thousand dollars or something more, were lying, blind and sad, in a wastepaper basket.

"I'll give my hand," She had said when they questioned her.

The trusty Mana had already sent the letter.

A minute later, the pearls were in their velvet box again. She refused to wear them for the wedding. She left her neck bare and exposed to the world she would have to fight to live in.

And she had been frightened when she had put on her elaborate wedding gown, felt the fresh flowers being tucked here and there, her hands being tussled upwards, unsteady, so they could grip the bouquet, how they'd found her white and resolute, sitting on her bed, without a single tear shed or a single word of complaint.

Half an hour later, she was walking by his side, without a single word or a single thing she could think of saying. Her lips were painted pink, her lids slightly lavender with a soft powder she hadn't cared to put on but had allowed someone to.

She had only cried in the car when she had been forced to smile and wave like a performing monkey at the people around, and she knew she could fool them but not herself. Even Yuna had known the truth; that her heart wasn't with her or him. He had known, but he had ignored it. But if Yuna knew anything, then anyone and everyone must have had already.

She had wanted to punch him that day too, see his jaw break, watch his blood stain her white gloves at their wedding, but she knew that she had lost. She was ready to surrender and just throw in the damned towel, but Kira had came. Lost in confusion and rage, Cagalli had erupted and screamed at him, but she had always been grateful to her twin for making a life-changing decision for her.

Aboard the Archangel, Cagalli had stayed in her room and fingered the ring Lacus returned to her, knowing fully that she was pining away for somebody else. She had dreamt of his green eyes for countless of nights, but when she saw them again, they were full of hatred, and she had been stunned to realise that they were directed at her.

She had said very little during that meeting because Kira had been there, but when she had reached out for him, he had turned and cruelly walked away. She hadn't cried, no, not in front of Kira, but she had gone into her room and wept while she stuffed her fist in her mouth so nobody would hear her.

She opened her eyes. Time, each grain was a second and the hourglass's gap was but a sand's millimeter, a particle at a time, slow, but sure.

Now, she just wanted to lose herself forever and just do what she had to do to live.

The tension had been somehow released as she punched the person who had manipulated her straight on, and she had commanded for him to be brought away and jailed when she realised she was near to killing him with her bare fists. She longed for that kind of release now, but knew it was downright impossible.

Yuna was dead, so any options of a punching bag were gone. Of course, the pillow was another option, but she didn't dare to flop down and screech and cry and yell to release her pent-up emotions and blinding anger at being as suppressed as she suddenly felt she was. She was admittedly afraid that she'd lose everything that she had worked so hard for, and that was the cold hard truth whether she liked to admit it or not. There was only so much stubbornness would allow, and hot-headedness, the passion that had surged through her eyes and her body once, would have to be binded for the greater good.

Yesterday had been frightening when she had lost a bit of her resolve and cried a little in front of him. And yet, Cagalli was still proud that she hadn't dissolved entirely when he had hugged her, although she would have to manage herself better from now on if they ever met again.

Not that she'd want to of course.

She bit her lip as she thought of these thoughts.

For it was guaranteed that she had cried, and if she had cried a little and even hugged him on seeing him on their first meeting after not seeing him for nearly two years, there was no telling what she might do if she saw him more frequently.

Cagalli paused the absent-minded flipping of the newspapers and looked into the mirrors that lined the sides of the new office. She was suddenly immensely glad that her own office back in ORB where her father used to work didn't have any of those, because she hadn't wanted to see her reflection if she could avoid it at all. It simply wasn't that she looked inappropriate, the truth was far from that. Contrary to what the others thought, Cagalli, primped, combed, instructed, stiffly graceful, as ridiculous as it seemed, and made proper for all the events she attended, would have broken down.

Now, she was staring at a blonde girl who would hit twenty in a few months time but with eyes so dull it looked like a stranger's eyes. Strange mouth, nothing of that mark of character she had once carried on her face. And she was a stranger.

Her hair was still kept short, slightly above her shoulders, for she had insisted on that even while her personal consultants and Goebbels had tried to persuade her to keep her hair long to soften her image. She wasn't about to grow long hair, she decided. Her father never had any problems with her wild untamed blond mane; she didn't see why the others should.

She had avoided looking into the mirror for the past two years, but anyway, she had never really been obsessed with her appearance from the start. But now, her image startled her, maybe because she hadn't seen herself in broad daylight and up close on such a personal level before. It was vaguely distressing.

And Cagalli placed her hands on her waned cheeks unconsciously to see if the person staring back was really her, and when she finally couldn't stand it any longer, she spun around and squatted down, pulling yanks of her hair as she had once done when she was unable to think clearly.

She hadn't cried out loud for nearly two years, but teared, yes, maybe when she was tired or a little upset like last night, but not like what she felt she owed herself today.

But first, she had to make sure nobody could hear her, because she was too embarrassed to let them know she wanted to break down although it was just for one stupid measly day, and all because she was afraid that they'd think she was going mad.

So she strode to the edges of her room, blinded by the onslaught of tears that blurred her vision, and locked all the doors and windows in the office she was getting to like more and more, and promptly squatted down, near the mirror, and then sobbed and sobbed and sobbed like she hadn't done for the longest time.

She wasn't sad, she was in a sort of desperate rage.

And she raged, anger reared through her like a snake, reared its head and silently screamed. She was asking why she had made the decisions she had, why she was like this now, and why she was even bothering to shed tears for the past.

Her phone rang in the midst of her emotional release, and Cagalli was forced to wipe her eyes and snatch a few tissues before answering the phone which had started to ring almost insistently.

Muttering something unintelligible, she flipped the phone open and said in the steadiest voice she could muster, "Chairman Atha here. Who is this speaking?"

She heard Kira's voice and heard him saying, "Cagalli, can you meet Lacus and me down at the PLANT embassy house in an hour or so?"

In a daze, she was hastily clearing the hoarseness from her throat and telling him yes, she'd be there in an hour's time. As she put the phone down, she wondered if they'd be having lunch together, and decided that she could really use the three-day break that Lacus had so kindly planned for her.

Obviously, Lacus was more or less familiar with the area after being posted here for nearly a month, hence her ease at planning the short break she had offered to Cagalli last night. But first, she'd have to explain everything to her secretary so he could make the following arrangements.

She dried her eyes and checked her reflection to see if she looked like she had been crying. Thankfully, it wasn't so obvious except for the red-rims which she could pass off as a bad night's results if she was asked about it, and she counted to twenty like how she had taught Kira to do when they needed to calm down or wait. Twenty was like a magic number to her at times, but in fact, Ahmed had taught her to do that when she was a resistance fighter in Desert Dawn and they were waiting for enemies to arrive from their hiding places.

Somehow, twenty counts were always enough to see the enemies pouring like black beetles out of their lairs, it never failed.

She called in for Goebbels, realising that she had never addressed him by his first name before, and watched as the fairly handsome coordinator strode in. He raised an eyebrow at her red-eyes, but didn't bother asking what was wrong.

Thank Goddess Haumea, she thought, randomly subbing in the goddess of fertility's name that some ORB tribes and the Desert Dawn resistance troops had revered.

"Goebbels, I'm going to use the three days I have left here to explore the area and get some firsthand experience of what life for the Naturals is like here without a trace of any Coordinator's influence. It'll help in the process of relocating naturals that have never lived with Coordinators before, don't you think so?" she said smoothly, thinking how her words were a far cry from the time she had tried to lie and would end up flushed in the face and angry from the effort it took to lie.

Her eyes had always given her away because they couldn't look straight at any person she was trying to lie to, but now she had no problem with that. No problem at all.

Her secretary looked at her with keen eyes behind his glasses, and she wondered to herself why he saw a need to wear glasses when she knew for a fact that he had perfect vision.

"If that's the best course of action you feel is possible Chairman, do go ahead," he replied mechanically, although he was obviously paying more attention to her messy hair than her ill-concealed distress. He was such a downright bastard at times, that he was, but she'd let it go. It wasn't as if she had much of a choice anyway.

If her secretary had been anyone else with a little more warm blood than Goebbels, they might have asked her what was wrong and showed the slightest hint of concern. Rainie would have bopped up to her and thrown her arms around her although bodyguards weren't supposed to do that kind of thing. But Rainie was only sixteen this year, she was but a child. But he was like a machine, effective but emotionless, but then she was becoming that too. He was teaching her how.

She sighed inwardly and waved him out of the office, gathering a few crucial papers she wanted to deal with in the next few days and then on impulse, rushing to her personal room next door and sweeping a few sets of clothes and a few dresses and cosmetics into her suitcase.

Two shirts, a few other things, toothbrush, a hairbrush she would borrow from Lacus-

Maybe if she begged hard enough, Lacus would let her bunk in at the PLANT embassy house that she and Kira lived in. Would she be annoyed? No, Lacus would be possibly, pleased.

The first time she had met Lacus, Cagalli had, unlike the others, not been in awe, for her curiosity far outstripped the thrill at meeting one of the most influential women in the world, regardless how young Lacus Clyne really was.

She now felt a need to be with her best friend and her brother once more to ease the dull throb she felt when she was away from ORB with a little lesser of the surroundings that could force her to work with very few thoughts left for her own self.

Cagalli Yula Atha had once been a reckless girl with a thirst to fight and live fighting. Now, she was fighting against enemies she couldn't see anymore and she knew deep inside that she was losing a battle she had never meant to win from the start.

She promptly flagged the car EA's council had arranged for all the ambassadors, both from ORB and PLANT, and pulled her luggage in herself. She dryly recalled how Mana would usually do the lugging although Cagalli wanted to help, and thought of how surprised Mana would be if she knew Cagalli had learnt how to do her own make-up in the last few years, since she had sent Mana to a peaceful part of ORB that did not include rushing around to make sure Cagalli was safe. She scarcely recognized the thirst to want to break free, but Cagalli would always be safe. She was a caged bird- denied flight but safe still. And that was enough, wasn't it?

Mana had looked after Cagalli since she was a child, and now, it was her due to relax a little.

Necessity was the mother of invention, she decided, although her hair was still a problem to fix. More often than not, it was a young bodyguard in her office who regularly offered to and helped her fix her hair.

She would have to buy the girl a present one day, Cagalli thought, maybe something that suited her girly personality. "Maybe her own hair-dressing salon?" she wondered aloud, causing the driver to swivel wildly at her sudden conversation with apparently, nobody.

He looked at her suspiciously and she shrugged.

As the car she was seated in drove into the embassy zone where the stately house loomed before her, a sleek black vehicle zoomed right past them. She sat upright, her heart somehow less heavy than before, and curiously squinted through the sunlight at the sleek lines and perfect shape of the vehicle and thought that the owner must have had pretty good taste to get a car as lovely as the one being driven.

What Cagalli didn't know was that Athrun Zala was driving the car and at that instant, vaguely wondering why an ORB embassy car was arriving at the PLANT ambassador's residence so early in the morning. What she also wasn't aware of, was that just as she was wiping her eyes and trying not to look like she had cried, so was he.

When she stepped out of the car, Cagalli saw a ball of pink slam into her line of vision and an equally pink figure jump right at her. Lacus had thrown herself at Cagalli and was hugging her blissfully while the haro she was never seen without bounced everywhere screaming that nobody ever respected a haro these days. She knew almost immediately that Kira had been responsible for its suddenly broadened vocabulary.

Cagalli laughed and embraced her dear friend, wanting to reconfirm that Kira had been tampering with the haro, and then she remembered what she had came for. Chewing her lip because she was sure she was going to sound terribly brusque, she paused a little, hanging back. Since when had she been frightened of what she would sound like to others?

Then she thought of Goebbel's frown and the rude finger gesture she had made when he hadn't been there to see it and plunged in bravely.

"Can I stay here for three days? Please?" she pleaded quietly, and brightened immediately when Lacus nodded eagerly and took her hands.

She grabbed her luggage and set off pulling it behind her, feeling the strain in her arms she hadn't expected to feel. Her papers were probably all crumpled in her suitcase, but she'd iron them in secret and on the sly, perhaps later with a little help from Lacus before returning them to the office. For now, that wasn't her main priority.

She swivelled backwards and looked at the roads that led to the house. There was only one two-way road available, and she looked at Lacus, puzzled and meaning to ask if they had had any visitors earlier than her, possible one who drove the black Lamborghini she had just seen zoom by her.

Lacus saw her looking at the road, and hastily led her into the house. Her lips were a little pursed and her steps not quite unhurried.

For Lacus wasn't quite keen to let Cagalli know that Athrun had been there, lest Cagalli make a neat u-turn and disappear back to where she had come from. Now that Cagalli was here, Lacus would sort things out, but that would be tricky if Cagalli was aware what Athrun thought by word of mouth. It was difficult when they were as undecided and tentative as the time when they'd left for Messiah, perhaps even more, because the distance of two years was suddenly looming immense and grey before their eyes.

And every child knew that word of mouth was the worst way to pass information on, and Lacus wasn't a child anyway. Now wasn't the time, she decided, not just yet anyway.

She promprly quickened her pace, and her feet were little pidgeons, fluttering frantically.

But Cagalli saw Lacus looking a little more cheerful and energetic than usual and wondered what it was that bothered her friend, what cause the inexplicable fluster in her blue eyes. Every time Lacus looked incredibly peaceful, there were only two logical explanations. One was obviously attributed to Kira, but the other was when Lacus needed to think but didn't want anyone else to know her thoughts. They both understood this- it was a wall of an inscrutable nature.

Once, Cagalli had seen her leaving Kira's room with the kind of sadness on her face that had gone straight down to her own heart and pierced it like an arrow, drawing a stifled throb of agony to those who would see it.

That had been during the first war when Fllay had died and Kira had realised that it was his fault to a certain degree. Cagalli hadn't wanted to eavesdrop, well, technically, it wasn't really eavesdropping since Lacus was talking only to her haro, but she had heard Lacus quite clearly even through the muffled sobs. She had been shocked to realise Lacus wasn't so clueless about Fllay, Lacus actually knew that Kira saw something in her that reminded her of Fllay, and that had tormented her. But she had never said anything, and Cagalli didn't know how to approach the situation either.

Guiltily dismissing all thoughts from her head, Cagalli strode after Lacus who was quite far ahead of her since she had been dawdling and lost in her thoughts.

As Cagalli entered the terribly gigantic house and the grand dining room, she saw her brother sitting at the table, his egg unpeeled and his toast unbuttered while he intently read through all the papers that were splayed out before him, and found herself entirely losing her senses for the first time in a long while, squealing and launching herself on him from behind, making him yell in surprise and drop his fork below the table. Both of them ducked under the table to retrieve it but ended up colliding into each other and gaining identical bruises on their heads.

"Twin bruises only work for twins," Lacus wisecracked. Cagalli snorted and Kira laughed quite sincerely, and his violet eyes were turned on Cagalli. He knew Lacus had a tendedency for those kind of weird jokes most deemed as warm as the tuna nobody had touched for a month. Of course, not many knew that the sophisticated songstress who was an icon of class and timeless beauty liked that sort of thing.

He patted Cagalli's back warmly, but not without a slight trace of awkwardness. It was always like that, but that clumsiness was charming in its sincerity.

The other PLANT ambassadors who were residing temporarily in the other segments of the large embassy house and were due to return to PLANT after the end of last night's event were all chuckling and pointing to the fiasco at the breakfast table.

Tired from last night's event, they had all woken up after hearing sounds of laughter echoing from the dining hall. Amongst them was a young red-haired girl, the talented hacker and computer analyst directly under the ZAFT ambassador who had failed to answer Cagalli's question the night before.

Meyrin looked longingly at the warmth unfolding before her and laughed too as she realised that things might turn out for the better in the long run. She caught Lacus' eye and smiled at the mediator who had recommended her to the PLANT embassy so she could resettle and find new work after resigning and leaving from Chairman Zala's service.

Cagalli eagerly settled herself down at the table and was helping herself to the food that Kira had neglected for his papers. Haro was cursing at an ambassador who had almost stepped on it, and Cagalli heard the sudden high-pitched sounds it was issuing, recognizing it as dolphin language that she had heard when she was aboard the Archangel when it had entered Earth's orbit and became a ship in the sea.

Then she stopped abruptly, for she had seen a flash of brilliant red hair as the ambassadors, bored of the noise, left the room for more sleep before their flight back to PLANT. Red hair like spilled blood.

She might have known Meyrin anywhere.

Cagalli got up, throwing down her napkin and fork and standing up so quickly her chair overbalanced and fell, its crash muted by the carpet that was laid on the floor. There was a monumental pause of chaos.

Ignoring Kira's stunned "Hey!" she hurried after the ambassadors and trailed the red that appeared in the crowd of colours. She hurtled forward, stretched out a hand and managed to hold onto a pale hand whose owner stopped while the other ambassadors left.

"It's been a long time, Meyrin," she found herself saying to the girl.

"Too long if you ask me," Meyrin responded easily.

And then they were embracing each other fiercely and Cagalli was hugging another person she hadn't seen for nearly two years. She hadn't hugged quite so many people for quite some time, but emotions were running high in a place where old friends and lovers congregated, and she was caught up in everything where the only thing that seemed to be real was the fragments of the past they were holding so stubbornly onto, beating against the tide of the current and the present in the crisp, golden autumn of the year.

And the eggs were steaming and the bacon protesting with their red streaks, that they would be wasted in their succulent heat and tantalizing steams. Yet, they pressed on.

Breakfast lay forgotten as Kira and Lacus approached, both of them holding hands comfortably without a sign of novelty that often peppered fresh couples in their eyes or slight embarrassment.

Kira looked at the young girl who had been naïve but rooted in her trust of her elder sister and the same girl who had saved Athrun and proved herself to be a steadfast friend even in the grey areas war often forced people into. Meyrin had changed her hairstyle a little with a single ponytail instead of the former two that added a little maturity to her youthful face, and was dressed in a simple work shirt and skirt with ZAFT emblems, direct indications as to which ambassador she was working under.

"I didn't know you were staying in this house, Meyrin! How could you not tell me?" Lacus demanded, as Meyrin grinned at her, quietly taking note of the almost invisible wink Lacus threw at her.

And Kira saw the silent exchange and smiled at the girl who had once risked her life and future when she was only sixteen, all to save his best friend. Had she known what her life would have been like?

Meyrin Hawke had been painfully shy in front of Lacus once. Now, they were almost sisters, smiling and holding each other, afraid to let go.

"It was a last minute decision to stay here, because the hotel the subordinates of the ambassadors were placed at was suddenly filled," explained Meyrin, offering a hand to Kira who shook it firmly.

"And of course we didn't see you at yesterday's event," concluded Lacus, nodding knowingly.

"I'm sorry to trouble you and have to put up here, although I'll be leaving in a few hours time with the other ambassadors and their subordinates," Meyrin said simply, proving she had somehow retained her youthfulness and innocence.

Cagalli stared at her with a bit of what seemed a little like dismay. Perhaps Meyrin would leave with Athrun too, perhaps he'd come for her and bring her away.

Then they'd be gone and she wouldn't have to see them and feel the pain stabbing though the numbness she had already grown accustomed to.

She prayed silently, for serenity and composure she had always longed for, the same composure Athrun always seemed to have and the same composure Meyrin had now obtained, perhaps by being with him. She didn't want to weep like she had once, stuffing her fist in her mouth to keep silent while the tears streamed down her cheeks, not ever again, feeling those gasping sobs tear through her. She didn't want to.

Her silent inner conflict might have showed on her face, because she was aware her brow was furrowing into a slight frown.

This was immediately picked up by Lacus who announced that she and Kira had to attend to some urgent business and would be back for lunch with both of them, gliding out of the room with Kira and Cagalli's luggage in tow this time, hence leaving a bemused Meyrin and a suddenly shy Cagalli standing face to face.

Then Meyrin was boldly taking her hand in her own and leading her out to the windows where a breeze was blowing and making the sheer curtains flap in accordance to the wind. Her hair was like strips of a fiery cloth, whipping in the wind, truly beautiful.

And the girl turned to her, smiled very gently and said almost cheerfully, "Did you receive it back?

Cagalli, puzzled, stared at her.

"What do you mean, Meyrin?" she enquired, not quite prepared for the answer that hit her next.

"The ring you passed to me two years ago, I gave it back to Athrun a month after the final battle at Messiah and resigned from his service. Did you not receive it from him?"

"No, I didn't," Cagalli said slowly, "because I haven't seen him for almost two years until last night, and he didn't make any effort to arrange to see me either."

And that was when the hurt started kicking in and her head started throbbing like mad. She fought to keep calm and was enraged. How dare she feel so affected by something that she ought to have been emotionless and neutral over?

Her emotions must have been clearly readable on her face, try as she did to keep it unreadable, and Meyrin was silent for quite some time before she finally spoke.

"I left Chairman Zala because I realised after a month or so, that he would never love me the way he loved you."

She paused for a while and Cagalli was suddenly feeling awkward, but thankfully, Meyrin continued although her voice trembled a little.

"I think, maybe, just maybe, he never even loved me actually." Her voice was smiling. It grew wistful with that tranquility, and Cagalli was afraid to hear the next words.

"On my part, it was that sort of school-girl infatuation that had meant the world to me at that time when he had knocked on my door when I was fifteen, with a rifle in his hands and desperately fighting for a chance to escape. The ring never belonged to me, I only safe-kept it for you during the time you were caught up in your country's immediate problems, but it never belonged to me, the way he never belonged to me too. I hope you understand that."

And Meyrin sighed, looked suddenly like a different person, but then smiled secretively, like a child that was hiding a treasure from the world around her.

Before she could reach out to stop her, Meyrin had already gently folded her fingers securely around the ring that lay in her palm, then looked at Cagalli with a hint of very pure, guiless sadness in her wide eyes before she turned away.

And then she was gone, leaving a confused Cagalli in her wake.

* * *

Author's note on the 12th September 2007:

Hello everyone!

I've changed the chapter from no.1. to this one.

The changed are minimal, not so for some other bits, though I'd doubt you'd remember. )


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: I don't own GS/GSD. Please R&R, make my day, so go on.

* * *

Chapter 11 

"Look," Kira began briefly, "I know it's going to make both of you quite, fankly, dreadfully envious or something to the extent of pissed, but I'm going to start the conversation by telling you what a bundle of joy Leon is."

Cagalli gritted her teeth, and she resisted the urge to punch the screen while Athrun tried to smile, but something twitched in his jaw.

Lacus moved into the vision of the screen, and she smiled blissfully at both of them, sitting down next to Kira. He was in his uniform, and she was in a simple blue dress, both looked about as happy as larks. So it was still afternoon in the PLANTs.

"So tell us how you got the communication channel open so exclusively and sneaked Lacus in, go ahead," Cagalli said testily, shifitng in the chair in front of the screen. Athrun made no comment, he was busy trying not to feel sore about the child issue, or rather, the lack-of-child issue, and she thought it was best if they avoided the topic a bit.

"Simple," Kira said plainly, but all of them detected a sort of smugness in his calm voice, "I offered to show the troops Leon, and they were all suckers and said yes. He's playing with them now, I told them to do what they like as long as they didn't bring him near those wires, he keeps trying to grab them and I'm worried that he'll grab a live one. Lacus would be petrified if Leon got electrocuted, so I gave specific insturctions to the whole gang of soldiers outside."

Cagalli snickered loudly, Kira looked none too pleased, and Lacus smiled charmingly, turning to Athrun and saying sweetly, "And how's it been, Athrun?"

"Fine," Athrun replied nonchalantly, smiling back at his best friend and Lacus, "Work's work, and Yzak and Shiho are here to help for a bit. Not that they've been very helpful, they mess around more than the recruits."

"Ah, disillusioned, both of them," Kira said lightly, "They just want to take a break, give them the greenlight, you."

"They don't need it," Athrun muttered, "They're doing as they please already, they don't give a hoot what ZAFT thinks."

Cagallli cut in hurriedly, "Uh, let me see Leon, I want to see him at least!"

"Sure," Lacus offered obligingly, "I'll go find him and bring him over, so you talk with Kira more."

Kira looked up as she stood up and moved out of the line of vision, then he turned back to face the screen, and said gently, "She loves him very much, but that's obvious. In any case, you haven't told us how you're doing. And take note, I know about Thornier, do be careful, both of you, I would hate to see anything happen at this stage."

"Right," Cagalli nodded reluctantly, "So far, it's been going quite well, we've upped security significantly, but that's mostly on Athrun's insiting, I'm accompanied home by three bodyguards until he gets home, and in the ORB/ZAFT camp, it's quite heavily-guarded. In any case, I don;t want to spend the evening talking about security measures and all that, why don't you just tell us about what's going on in PLANT?"

"Oh, nothing much," Kira grinned, "Same old, same old. Lacus' been quite busy as of late, she's been discussing certians plains for trade agreements amongst EA and PLANT, I suppose ORB will be getting wind of that soon. You know, it's funny how she makes time for Leon and PLANT, it's almost as if she doesn't try very hard at all."

She was well aware that Athrun was throwing her a 'See, I told you so' face, but she ignored him, quite convinced that he had told Kira to say that, and she asked pointedly, "Any other news?"

"Meyrin Hawke's was working as a diplomat's assistant, but then she was promoted, currently she's in the General Cabinet of PLANT," Kira explained, "Her sister's a senior redcoat, so it's been quite good for both. "

"And Shinn?" Athrun asked swiftly,"Is he still in ZAFT or has he left to search for other prospects?"

"Oh," Kira paused, scratching his chin a bit, "Shinn, he's still in ZAFT, but he told me last Wednesday that he was considering quitting and looking for some other job. I'm not too sure about that, he says he wants to try a job in the education business. Preschooling or something like that, he apprently has the qualifications. I'm not too sure he has the temperament though, he's still a bit, how should I put this, rough around the edges, I suppose.

Cagalli tried not to add onto anything and Athrun looked a bit incredulous.

"But he doesn't flare up much these days," Kira added quickly, as if to make a disclaimer, "I suppose he's come a long way from the time he was sixteen. I suggested him trying out for a test-pilot like Shiho Hahenfuss if he's not keen on fighting, I mean, you aren't yourself, but then the piloting speaks for itself. It seems to me that Shinn enjoys the piloting rather than the fighting, and it'll be a huge pity if ZAFT loses a top pilot like him. I think that's precisely why Shiho became a test-pilot herself. I suggested he could try teaching piloting, but he says they don't mix, I think he just doesn't want anyone to know how he became so good anyway."

"That's good to hear," Athrun said, throwing a meaningful glance at Cagalli, who quirked her lips in reponse, but she was spared the need to elaborate as Lacus' lower profile came into sight and the songstress sat down, proudly holding a young child whose brown hair looked exactly like Kira's and whose eyes were so blue, they resembled the ocean.

Athrun smiled indulgently at the child who was nestled in Lacus arms, but Cagalli's reaction was a tad more drastic. Figures, Athrun thought dully, she likes children, but she doesn't want one. But he noticed that Cagalli couldn't help gasping in delight, since Leon was cuddling to his mother, and Kira smiled at them, offering helpfully, "I told you he was a bundle of joy."

"Thanks," Athrun said sarcastically, "I couldn't see that for myself until the Commander Yamato pointed that out."

Cagalli didn't hear him, or even detect the slightly wistful tone he used, she was crouching nearer to the screen and placing a tentative palm on it in wonder, almost as if she could feel the warm, tiny hand in her own, and in response, Lacus giggled and brought the child closer to the screen at her side, and Leon gurgled and stretched out too, touching the screen and blinking adorably. His eyes were intelligent and like electric blue currents, somehow different from Lacus' slightly calmer ones. Perhaps in time, his eyes would resemble hers more.

Kira and Athrun watched as their families laughed, sharing the happiness through a single screen, until the connection had to be closed.

But before it was, Cagalli told them fiercely, "Be prepared to see us over at PLANT on one of these weekends. I'm going to go over even if my work piles up when I'm gone, Lacus, so there!"

An hour later, entirely spent from the evening's excitment, Athrun watched her dozing comfortably in his arms and smiled to himself. She was a contradiction, she didn't want children but loved Leon, she was fearless but she was afraid of fear itself, and he loved her all the more for being herself. Then he extricated himself from her side, and moved lethargically over to fetch his cell, feeling somehow stranded without her arms that she had wound around his neck and left them there for a long time. He listlessly sent a message to his secretary, instructing her to obtain shuttle passes for that very weekend, knowing that it woudl eb the first thing she would see in the morning.

The next day, however, was a terrible one for Cagalli. She felt somewhat giddy and her head felt like a chopping board had whacked it from the back, and she even cuahgt herslf yawning during an important meeting. She was mortified when a minister told her she looked ill, because she didn't want the world to confirm her suspicions when Athrun wasn't around yet. Lunch tasted terrible, she felt somewhat nauseous when someone offered her orange juice, although she wasn't quite so sure why, and then she felt a bit feverish and knew she was falling sick or suspected something far worse.

"Damn," she cursed aloud, checking through her schedule. The only good thing that woudl come out of it was that she ahd finsihed her work far in advanced time, so it wouldn't hurt to take about five days leave if worse came to worst. But her body was telling her that she couldn't afford to go at the breakneck pace, so she relcutantly called for Kisaka, and he assured he he woudlt ake care of everything.

"Not that you've left much for us to do," he chuckled, feeling a hit relieved that she woudl be at home and she would be safe anyway. It was like killing two birds with one stone, maybe he'd get Rainie to accompany her too.

"Oh, while you're at it," Cagalli told the tanned man blurily, "You can ask Rainie to take a few days off, the others too. I supposed that if I'm cooped at home for the whole day, or days even, then Thornier can't get to me."

"No," Kisaka said instantly, "Athrun would say no and so will I, mind you, it's not safe."

She stared at him, and frustration crossed her features, "I can't keep up with this for eternity, Kisaka, it's not fair to Rainie and the others that they go home late because of me!"

"Better they go home late," Kisaka repeated warningly, "Then your life put in danger. It's their job, you ahve no idea how willing they were to volunteer for this part of the job when I asked them about it. You ahve some very loyal workers under you, Chairman, and you've got a protective Zala somehwere there too. I suggest that you dont' let their efforts go to waste."

"Alright," she conceded uncomfortably, "And I don't know what's come over me, I'm just so-tired."

She ended this in a detached voice and rubbed her eyes, then in a daze, she was being led out by Kisaka, brought into a car, where Rainie was sqaushed next to her, sympathetically patting her shoulder, and she was walking up the stairs in a blurry haze and collapsing on the bed gratefully. But something in her shook with fear, and she welcomed sleep thankfully.

Awakened only by a gentle touch, feather-light on her forehead, she pried her eyes open with a fair bit of difficulty and saw Athrun sitting next to her, gazing down at her.There were faint traces of worry, and Cagalli tried to smile comfortingly, but when she realised she couldn't, she hid her mouth by pretending to yawn.

"I need to discuss something with you," she said hesistantly, and she forced herself up and shoved a pillow near her spine. A slight pain enclosed in on her back and her chest felt heavy and a bit warm. But she ignored all these, she could have guessed as much.

"Go ahead," he offered softly, moving closer, "I suppose it's a problem at work, Kisaka told me you were feeling tired and had backaches and all of those headaches you kept trying to deny that you were having. I knew they were overstretching you, the problem is that you didn't mind. And tomorrow will be a good time to visit PLANT, I've gotten the passes, and you can relax for a long weekend there, Kisaka can cover you up until Wednesday."

"Not that," she interrupted helplessly, "At first, I thought it was just some accidental thing, my courses were always irregular and all, they run dry when I'm a bit bogged down, and in the past I didn't have to think about it. And now-"

She cut herself off and began again, trying to speak more clearly and slowly, he had a sort of look on his face that suggested that he didn't catch any wind of what she was trying to get across to him.

"Now," Cagalli tried, feeling a bit frustrated and unable to form complete sentences in her anxiety at what his response would be, "I think- But now, I-"

"You," he said softly, his eyes wide, and she gripped his hand feverishly and said in a soft voice, "I think I'm carrying a child."

He was absolutely still, nothing moved, and she thought she was going to die, her heart stopped beating, and suddenly, his eyes and every feature were filled with a terrible, heart-stopping joy and he grabbed her into a breath-stealing bear-hug and squashed her, exclaiming excitedly, "That's wonderful! When did you know?"

"I didn't know at any point," Cagalli said sheepishly, "I just- I just knew. It doesn't make any sense if I say this, but- but I feel, what's a word to describe it, oh, don't smirk at me, you horrid person, I feel pregnant. Fine, I said it! Happy?"

"Terribly," he said, smiling so sincerely her heart felt light in an instant. But then she thought of something and then she felt weak again, grateful that he was holding her and she was sitting on the bed as well.

"I haven't taken any tests or anything, but something tells me that-"

And she gave a dry sob, unable to continue, and he looked at her, puzzled, and asked, a bit lost, "Why are you crying?"

"I don't know," she managed weakly, "Just tired and unsure of what I should do in this damn mess."

It was probably the hormones, but he was as clueless as she, and then she clung onto him, afraid to let go, but he thankfully held her tightly, a fierce pride sweeping across his face.

"It's no mess," he said sternly, but his features softened as he kissed her gently, "It's a gift. I'll send for a doctor now, Kira and Lacus will be thrilled to hear the news."

"Yes," Cagalli agreed listlessly, "But this is happening too quickly, I wonder what will happen in the future."

"Don't worry," he smiled steadily, unable to prevent the joy and anticipation in his voice, "Leave it to the future to decide. All you need is the child and I."

The very next morning, they left for PLANT together, and Cagalli kept cursing under her breath, angry at being so reliant on him in the past and even more angry at the way she was still dependant on him now, or worse, even more. He refused to let her hold any of their luggage even though it was relatively light, he didn't fuss over her the was Mana would have, that was her sole consolation. And she caught herself wallowing in the glow of his protectiveness and she was a bit ashamed, and Cagalli was eager to help with anything, anythimg at all, but he managed it all so effortlessly she was prone to cursing. He didn't seem to need her, but she needed him more than ever.

"Wait until Kira and Lacus hear about it," Athrun said suddenly, glancing at her as they sat by the arrival lounge, searching and scanning for Kira to appear.

"Oh," she muttered a bit apprehensively, "I didn't think of telling them. Why don't we wait a bit?"

"Sure," he offered cheerfully, "A surprise would be welcome. Lacus will be thrilled and your brother will be pleased. And that's an understatement, we both know Kira has a soft spot for children."

She tried to tell him that she wasn't so sure about all of this, but she couldn't bear to tell him that witholding the news was for her own selfish reasons, so she forced a bright smile and allowed him to kiss her lightly on the cheek.

An instant later, Kira strode up to them with Lacus, and Cagalli sprang up, Athrun getting up more leisurely.

"You know," Lacus said thoughtfully, "I could have sworn something was different about Cagalli, but I don't know what it is."

"Imagination running wild," she interrupted hastily, "I'm no different from the last time when you saw me."

And she hugged Lacus and her brother, ignoring the fact that they were no longer children. Kira drove all of them to their house, and she got out, in awe of the lovely house in front of her. Not that she hadn't seen it of course, but seeing it one alreayd didn't make it any less impressive.

It wasn't very large, it didn't even venture into the area of lavish or extravagant, but it was quite sizeable, big enough to fit about two normal families at least. Athrun ahd once told her that the most established, affleunt or infkluentail Coordinator families from the first generation were didvided into almost clan-like Houses, they had a grip on PLANT the normal Coordinators just did not possess nor could even dream of possessing. Curious, Cagalli had enquired the names of the Houses, and not surprisingly, many of the Redocats she had met and were familiar with were from either of those he mentioned offhand, save for the Clyne House. Apparently, that particular House hadn't had the sort of prestige reserved for the other Houses until Siegel Clyne had became Chairman of PLANT, and even then, his popularity had been short-lived in the changing of the fickle hearts in the first war. But in the eyes of the Coordinators, Lacus Clyne was truly, in all sense of the word, a princess.

In Cagalli's opinion, nobody deserved better.

Leon was sleeping when they got back, he looked like an angel resting, as cliched as it would have seemed to Cagalli. But his face held no expression except peace and bliss, and she stroked his head softly and he rolled over in his sleep and clutched at her finger with a strong hand. So he would be a strong child, she decided. Athrun was enamoured by him too, although he didn't want to make it too obvious, and Cagalli smiled and offered to take a walk with him around the house. The golden Souffle charged up to them, wuffling his black nose excitedly, and Athrun made it repeat all the tricks he had taught it before, to which it perfomred perfectly. She rewarded him with a biscuit and spent a while cuddling it, until the dog got too excited and tried to pounce on her. Athrun sprang into action and prompty hauled it off, making her laugh helplessly when he proceeded to admonish it the way he might have told a soldier off for being incompetent.

There were roses climbing steadily over the walls of a vacated room that Lacus chose as a greenhouse in the house itself, and he smiled briefly, turning to Cagalli who was venturing near them cautiously, afraid to tread on any of the vines and leaves.He took her hand almsot unconcisouly and led her through, and although he may not have noticed it, she wanted to be led by him.

"There're so many, I think I walked into the garden," she muttured, clutching her pants a bit so they wouldn't get caught onto the thorns.

"True," he grinned in response, "Lacus likes those, but she's been quite careful not to take walks here with Leon, he's too young to run about, but you never know anything. He'll start walking soon anyway, and before you know it, Leon will be reading books by the time he's a year-and a half old."

"So quickly?" she frowned, "I heard they only walk when they are about nine months old, how is it that a four-month old walks soon as you say?"

"You forget the Coordinator-designed genes," Athrun reminded her mildly, "I learnt to walk by the time I was six months old. Kira, I suspect, was the same."

"All coordinator children are like that, aren't they?" she asked, more to herself than him, but he nodded absently and tugged her hand lightly, and he said mysteriously, "Now that we've seen Leon, I want to show you another place."

"I dont' suppose it's in this house," she said slowly, pausing a little a window that looked out to the ocean in the distance as a church bell chimed from somewhere, "We've explored most of it, but then Aprilius City doesn't have many houses like this one, it's incredibly built-up when we're not near the ourskirts."

"You're pretty perceptive," Athrun offered admiringly, "No, I want to show you December City. I suppose we could impose on Kira and Lacus and stay here for the next five days, but we've got our own house, we might as well live in it once in a while, wouldn't you say so?"

"Oh," she responded, stunned, "I forgot about that. I didn't know it was in December City either, you didn't tell me anything of that sort."

"It slipped my mind," he replied mildly,"It takes about half and hour to get from here to there if we take a short-distance shuttle. I think you'll like it."

And when they got there, she noted that the city, unlike Aprilius, was a sort of countryside. It was hardly fair to call it a city, she reflected later, they probably did that because they wanted a common term for each individual PLANT, but the place there was closer to a well-developed countryside instead of a congested, urban city. If Lacus and Kira weren't working in Aprilius City where the High Council and ZAFT headquarters were, then they might have well located their home in Decemember instead.

"Come," Athrun said indulgently, "I want to show you the house."

He led her around a corner, slightly up the slope, not a cery steep one, more of a gentle-gradient than anything else, but when she reached the house, she was rendered speechless. It wasn't even right to deem it a house, it was more of a mansion, expansive and intricate, it's pillars and walls holding wild honeysuckle, it's interior more lovely than it's exterior. She was silent, she couldn't begin to dare and ask how much Athrun had paid the previous owners to move out of such a desirable home like this one, and she glanced at him and noticed he was looking at her with anxiety in his green eyes, a shy smile on his face.

"Do you like it?" he asked softly, and she swallowed a bit and nodded helplessly, then she choked, "How could I not? But you, how much did you pay for a house like this?"

"The opportunity to leave my name and the relation to Patrick Zala behind," he answered tensely, "This house, I lived here as a child before I was brought to Coppernicus and met Kira there. I considered forgoing the inheritance at a certain point, when I wanted to forget I was the former PLANT chairman's son, but I came back in the end."

Staring, bewildered at what he was saying, Cagalli mangaged a puzzled, "But you told me you bought a house when we married, I thought you said the owners would move out at any time when we wanted to come?"

"I didn't lie," Athrun smiled wistfully, "I inherited the house, the condition was that I was Athrun Zala and not any other person, and the owners that would move out, I was referring to dust and those ghosts of the past. So I didn't lie, I just- forgot to elaborate a bit."

She mock-glared at him, "I suppose you could have told me at least. No wonder I was thinking that it was a good deal if the owenrs would go at any one time when we arrived."

Then Cagalli gazed back at the house, her eyes grwoing wide again, and Athrun chuckled softly, saying languidly, "It's not a superbly big house, at least not by your standards. Why, I believe the Atha Manor is even larger if you want to go to the exact figures."

"It's big," she said in awe, "But not the size, it's just- lovely."

"Glad you think so," he said, glancing around the house, in surpringly good condition, "I missed this place, I always wanted to come back but I wasnt'r eady until the Second War ended and I settled the things of the past. My father- he sent my mother and I away when I was a child, they suspected that the city here would be the target of the war. But it turned out to be Junius Seven."

She was silent, she didn't know what to say to comfort him and make the pauin go away. But she took him and looked directly nto his emerald eyes and hugged him briefly, and when she tried to release him, he forbade her from doing so When they finally had to let go when they were both weary of standing, he brought her to down the hallways where opulent chandeliers dangled above their heads. She wasn't astonished at such grandeur, she had grown up in it, albeit reluctantly, but then she remembered that the Zala House was one of the msot respected clans in PLANT, and she bit her lips and remained silent.

There were portraits of men and women, bearing features unfamiliar to her at first, but then, bit by bit, she saw the connection. Those were the ghosts of the past, the Zala House, Athrun's ancestors. They were dressed in beautiful, fine clothes, dresses for the women that she would never dream of being able to wear with as much ease and grace as them, and suddenly, she felt out of place even though she was entitled to be here.

"I supposed you inherited your mother's looks," she said after she was finally able to find her tongue.

He smiled a bit, and he nodded, responding lihgtly, "I didn't look muich like my father, although he looked like many of the leaders of the Zala House. They used to address the leaders as the Lords or the Ladies, depending on the gender of the particular leader at the point of time. PLANT is surprisingly stringent on these even when it has progressed far faster than any other place, quite a contradiction if you ask me. The tradition died down at a certain point of time, but most Coordinators remember that there are Houses, certain ones, that wield more power in PLANT than an average family. It can be quite diverse, these areas of influence, the Zala House was always more politically-inclined, and the Joule and Amalfi one is relatively fixed in the economy. There are some others that are military-based, I think you might recall Shiho telling you that at one point. Nobody complains though, the balance has been there for a long time and it's a fair balance."

Glancing at Cagalli, he saw her staring at a particular portrait, and he knew, immediately, who she was looking at even when he could not see the name inscribed under.

"That's my mother," he offered wistfully, "Although you would have known it immediately."

There, a portrait of a stunning woman with his midnight hair and emerald eyes hung, Lenore Zala sitting on a chair in the middle of a room where the sunlight was only beginning to filter in and the dust particles were illuminated. The painter had been skilled, she looked like she was breathing, and the light behind her was almost life-like, ethereal even. She was wearing a soft, periwinkle colour, and it was so lovingly painted that Cagalli couldn't resist reaching out to finger the canvas, half-surprised to not feel chiffon instead. Lenore sat, smiling at something in the distance even though her head was turned to face them directly, and she held a book in her hands, some yellow, fragile flowers at her feet. And Caggali drew in a sharp breath, turning hesitantly to Athrun who was staring at the picture too, lost in his thoughts.

"You told me once," she began breathlessly, "That the Ladies of each House are painted two times in their lives, when they marry into a House and when they are-"

"Correct," he answered for her, "She was carrying me at that time."

They looked back at Lenore, she was holding the book possessiely evne though there was a beautiful fraility about her. Her hair was't very long, short by Lacus' standards, but it served to reveal a set of delicate cheekbones and eyes that shone. Her lips were formed in a half-smile, she was obviously in her late teens, but then, the book, she held it in a child-woman sort of way, like a treasure, the honeysuckle ignored at her feet. Looking around, Cagalli saw that every female held a sprig of flowers in their hands, but Lenore, she held a book instead.

"Why a book?" she asked curiously, "I suppose she wasn't too keen on flowers, was she?"

"No," he smiled, "She was. She loved them very much, but the book my father gave her was probably more precious than the honeysuckle."

"Your father," Cagalli tried to say, ignoring the pang in her heart, "He loved her very much, didn't he?"

"He did," he said sadly, a faint bitterness at his voice's edges, "He went berserk after she died. He could never let go of it, even until the day he died. You saw him for yourself, his last words were meant to exact revenge on those who had destroyed Junius Seven, only then did I realise that he was living in the past."

He pulled her to the other portraits, and they gazed at his ancestors. Most looked very regal, a hint of haughtiness even, and Athrun took her around them until he got weary and pulled Cagalli into his arms, saying softly, "That's the Zala House for you. They've been mostly politicians, except a grand-aunt who became a musician, but then she married into a close friend's House. The Zalas were politicans, mostly, so they all thought that the world revolved around them."

"It didn't did it?" she laughed, pulling his arms tighter about her, "But if it helps, my world seems to revolve around you."

Athrun grinned, the he asked, "Do you want to name the child?"

"I thought you assigned that to Kira and Lacus," she retorted in amusement, and Athrun shook his head ruefully and told her, "They told me today, that you wouldn't seem to want a child, and anyway, they were stumped. They gave up after a bit, so they thanked me for Leon's name and insisted that I could name the child if there ever was one of our own. Of course they don't know anything yet."

He smiled engimatically.

"They don't know anything," she chuckled, and he shook his head again and repeated, "No they don't."

" I suppose we don't have to look for names," Cagalli offered eagerly, "We could always use the names here. They seem to run alot in the House, some traditional names, I suppose. I spotted about four Athruns and seven Etines, oh, and about three Patricks. If the child's a girl, then probably Tatiana or Alexandria, I saw a few repeated ones back there."

"I don't need any of those," he said firmly, still locking her in his arms, "I inherited this house, but I don't have to make the child inherit another Zala name. The only reason why my name is as such is because my mother actually liked it. My father would have agreed not to use a Zala name if she didn't like those. And I don't mind Tatiana, it reminds me a bit of your name, actually."

"What do you mean?" she snorted to hide her embarrassment, "I don't see how a name of bonfire and a name of a fairy queen actually links."

"It doesn't," he admitted, "Just that they are both long and the kind you'd give to those of royal lineage."

"You can forget about it," she said teasingly, "It sounds silly to have a name like Tatiana Zala or Alexandria Zala anyway, too many similar vowels."

"True," he agreed softly, "I suppose nobody noticed it in the past. But in the meantime, you have five days to be here, I suggest we start enjoying the house while we're here, you get to stay to Wednesday. And for once, Yzak Joule is useful. He agreed, after ,much coercing on my part, to cover me."

"ZAFT's a bitch," Cagalli said immediately, squashing herself around so that her back was leaning against his chest, and he laughed and the sound rumbled there, and he replied fondly, "No, just work in general."


	12. Chapter 12

I don't own GS/GSD. R&R please.

Chapter 12

* * *

The sunlight filtered into the airy room, but it was shut out by the curtains that flapped only slightly in the breeze. The room, he had told her previously, had been his when he was a child. But the spacious four-poster must have seemed like a continent to him then, she had thought, it was large now even for two adults, for a mere child, it must have been strangely enormous. But his room was furnished in a sort of masculine way she didn't suppose a child would have requested for, no hanging models of planes or toy cars or anything of that sort, a few books here and there, yes, but mostly an expanse of airy space. There was a large oak wardrobe that they had haphazardly thrown their belongings in last night, then the walls were white with rich, satine-grey drapes that blocked almost all light out. All except the single shard that poked itself at her eyes. 

And Cagalli woke with a start, entwined softly in his arms, and she almost screeched in a panic, "Get up! You're late!"

But then she remembered that they were on a sort of impromptu holiday where nobody, not even ZAFT and the Council, would get to them. Then she blinked unsurely and held a hand to block out the faint, golden sunlight that was kissing her face, and she looked over at Athrun, slumbering peacefully.

'Well obviously,' she thought dryly, she was sleeping in such a way that the sunlight would only reach her.

Then she paused and looked carefully at him. Cagalli was the kind who slept in strange ways, she would toss and turn and flip the bankets around during the entire stretch of night, and she needed a bolster or an extra pillow, something next to her that she would periodically graps and hug in a stranglehold, but then when morning came, it would be lying, forgotten, at her side. It wasn't as if she didn't need it, she did, she required it dreadfully and couldn't sleep without it next to her, but then, she didn't need it for contact, she just needed it there beside her. When the bolster had been inevitably replaced with a living person, she had found it terribly difficult. When she tossed, she would become entangled in limbs that didn't belong to herself, and that frustrated her and so she would kick vehemently.

Athrun wasn't spared any woes either. Granted, he was a light sleeper already, not by choice, war had forced him to be on the alert, slightly paranoid even, although he didn't particularly notice this trait reappearing, it had been there for far too long. He slept on his side, he could bear no other way of rest. When he had shared a bed with her, he had ended up having his hours of sleep shortened by the abrupt awakenings she forced upon him. She didn't snore, thank heavens she didn't, he could bear no noise when he rested, but then he had woken up in the morning, significantly sore and significantly bruised. It seemed that Cagalli kicked and punched alot in her sleep. He hadn't confronted her about this, he had merely looked at her serenly in the morning and let her stare, bewildered at the brusies he had sustained. But he always assured her that he had bumped into something when he was careless at work. So this continued until he found a solution to avoid the problems that inevitably rose when he shared a bed with Cagalli.

There was once when he had been determined to see exactly what she got up to in her sleep, so he had stayed awake, under the pretense of sleeping, just to observe her. Then in the midle of the night, she had started tossing and turning and making a mess of the covers he had carefully spread over them hours before, and then he had watched, trying hard not to laugh as she sprawled herself all over, cautiously avoiding her limbs when she stretched haphazardly. And Athrun had taken quite somet time to get used to sharing a bed with her, he had simply learnt that to sleep, he had to bind her in his arms throughout the night.

And gradually, Cagalli had gotten used to hugging something that hugged her back and lay, not motionless, but breathing steadily, by her side.

Now she looked at him, and a smile spread itself softly like butterfly wings on her lips. His eyelashes were exceptionally long for a man's, they rested on his cheekbones very delicately, giving him a sort of gentlenss she wouldn't have imagined him possesing if she hadn't been at the receiving end of his kind ways. Athrun wasn't a devious person, he had a cunning side, but then he was sincere and his brilliant wits made him seem cunning when he held nothing back in a bid to fight for something. And Athrun was quiet and mild by nature, he only reacted strongly to certain things that meant the world to him, and with a pang, she looked at him, sleeping silently, and realised that she was one of them.

She wanted to stroke his cheek, but her arms were locked under his, and her face was nearly converging with his chest, due to their inherent height differences, and her heart started accelerating in its rhythm.He was still deep in slumber, his chest rising slightly as he breathed, and somehow, she slowly slid herself out of his grasp with much difficulty; Athrun had long learnt that her tossing habits were curbed only by the strongest lock.Then she breathed heavily at the effort of separating herself from his warm, sleeping form and slid out, getting dressed with as little noise as she could possibly manage.

The house was a thing of beauty, Cagalli thought in wonder, as she slipped around like a little ghost, clad in no slippers but only a snow-coloured dressing gown, fastened at the waist with an ash-coloured cord. Her feet were cold from the marble, but she didn't feel obliged to find a pair of shoes, because strangely, the cold that permeated her soles made her one with her surroundings. Athrun had mentioned last night that the caretakers came in once every half a year to do a check and cleaning, and its mysterious, slightly classical interior added on to its charm. She caught herself staring at everything that her eyes met as her feet bade her to wander down corridors and hallways that were not lit, no need for that when the sun was lingering just sufficiently to make the hallways glow. Here and there, she encountered some carpets, in good condition and their colours plush, the caretakers had probably discarded the moth-eaten ones some time ago.

And Cagalli paused at a stairway cutting into the floor, and she saw then, that it led almost underground. The tiles laid for the floor were no longer marble, but stone, and feeling deliciously thrilled, she meandered towards it in a sort of dazed pleasure, feeling an abrupt warmth from the tiles that had been heated by the sun's gentle rays.

But as she stepped towards the stairway, she heard footsteps of someone padding swiftly behind her, and Athrun saying hurriedly, "Cagalli!"

By pure instinct, she froze and then she looked up uncertainly, her lips parted slightly. He stood nearby, panting slightly, a robe carelessly thrown over him, and he was barefoot, similar to her. So he had awoken too, Cagalli thought wryly, his hair was slightly mangled and tousled from the night, possibly because of her, he always slept properly, and his eyes were filled with alarm.

"Good morning," she grinned, her hand still on the wall that was joined to the passage downwards.

"Good morning," he replied a bit haplessly, and they stared at each other for a queer moment or two until she chuckled at the random moment they shared. They were standing there, she swathed in white, he clad in a rich wine colour, and they were both barefooted.

"Come here," Athrun ordered hastily, "It's not safe there."

He was jumpy, on the edgy side, he didn't want to see her becoming accident-prone in this sort of situation, not with her carrying a child anyway. But she ignored him, much to his exasperation. And Athrun knew better than to bark orders at her, she wouldn't take kindly to that either, that he knew very well.

She was glancing down apprehensively, but the world below, just below her, seemed to be even more inviting and persuasive, less of a danger than what he seemed to deem it as.

"Why?'" Cagalli laughingly enquired, "You didn't tell me there was a passage under this house!"

But she still crossed over to him, and something in his eyes and the slight inclination of his arms made her feel as if he was waiting to catch her, as if she would slip and fall or do something that would make her break like she was a fragile doll. Terribly puzzled, she moved towards him, and he held her by her shoulders securely and smiled, his smile a little less tense.

"What's the matter?" she ventured curiously, "There isn't some dark, scary secret in this house, is there? Skeletons and coffins and the lot?"

"No," he smilingly replied, "Not at all. Just that I don't want to risk having you fall down."

He laid a hand softly on her where they both sensed there was life, and she suddenly felt embarrassed and his face heated up as well. It was a singularly strange moment, not in nature, but in the very fact that the excitement and anticipation was saturated around them then.

"You're paranoid, you are," she retorted teasingly, ruffling his hair affectionately like the way she might have done for a child, "You're so panicky! I'm not that careless, and I'm not that fragile either!"

"No," he assured her swiftly, "Just being careful."

He guided her down the steps, making sure she held tight to the railings and that he walked before she did.

'As if he were expecting that I'd need to use him to cusion a fall,' Cagalli thought in amusement, but she felt strangely touched and her cheeks burned a little. As they descended, deeper and deeper, the light seemed to fade around them, and for a minute or two, she was actually worried that she wouldn't be able to see him, but his hand was firm upon hers, and the contact itself was comfortingly warm.

"How did you know I woke up?" she asked after a bit, still minding her step as carefully as he did for his own.

"Simple," Athrun replied steadily, bringing her forward, "I've been used to a certain level of warmth you provide, and if my arms don't feel occupied holding yours down, then obviously, I would have awoken. Which proves that this holds truth, it worked today didn't it?"

"Sure," Cagalli grinned, "But I suppose the lack of tossing and turning was more of the determining factor."

True," Athrun agreed, mock-seriously, "And I got up and tried finding you. Not easy, especially in a house this size. But I guessed that you wouldn't have gotten very far, so my suspicions did hold water."

Then she was silent as her eyes were startled by a stronger light. And she gasped in amazement as everything around her was suddenly as clear as pure water to her senses, the rustle of leaves that she was standing on, the light spreading in from everywhere, and the windows that surrounded both of them like courtiers around their queen. The walls were grey, she could make that out at least, but it was with some effort, since the creamy honeysuckle and ivy adorned so much of the four walls that very little else could be seen of the bare walls.

The floor was strewn with creeping plants and some flowering shrubs she couldn't begin to name, and Cagalli stood in wonder, holding his hand, seeing a world she would have never dreamt of seeing even if her imagination was wilder than what she possesed. The room, no, the world she was in wasn't stifling even in all its fertile abundance and crowded greenery, it was airy and somehow charming, enshrouded from eyes even from the surface.

"I suppose you like it," Athrun enquired wryly, noting her stunned expression and bright eyes. She stared at him, in a sort of half-daze, and then she licked her lips and gulped twice, then she asked eagerly, "What's this place?"

He grinned at her barely-contained excitement, realising that she looked somehwat like Souffle with her golden hair and trusting, honest eyes, filled with pleasure and thrilled realisation of the world around her. He gazed around too, and then he offered steadily, "You've seen this place before, it's the room my mother sat in for her portrait to be taken."

Gasping, she promptly let go of his hand and moved around, looking for anything that might remind her of the very place that Lenore Zala had sat in, and then she found, a lonely, solitary chair by a particular window that was almost hidden by leaves. The chair's wood had almost rotted away, it stood, however, steadfast, on three-and-a-half legs, facing the forest it was placed in, a place where someone had sat once, pressing a book to her heart, a life growing in her.. And there was a strange prickling wetness to Cagalli's eyes and she muttered, "Bloody hormones."

Athrun said nothing, coming up from behind her and watching as she laid a slightly unsteady hand on the chair that was bound to the floor by vines, but there was a reassurance in his eyes that made her breathe properly again.

"This place was once a spare room," he told nobody in particular, his eyes had a glazed look, a faraway place filled with thoughts he expressed to nobody, but then she looked at him eagerly, holding onto every word that left his lips.

"It didn't have these plants," Athrun said softly, addressing a sprig of honeysuckle that winked at them from behind a curtain of vines, "My mother brought a few pots in here, I suppose they grew over time when we left for Coppernicus. The caretakers never bothered coming here, there's nothing to clean, really. The plants need little watering; PLANT itself is ideal for their growth because of it's climate."

He laughed ruefully at his point, turning towards her, saying softly, "Not natural, but strange how nature still responds as such."

She swallowed, not sure if any speech on her part would ravage the enigma of the world that lay around them in a singular hemisphere of beauty.

"When my father sent both of us to Coppernicus," Athrun continued mildly, not seeming to notice her, "I don't think he came back here either. He left for Aprilius, his work was there for the majority of the time, and my mother and I, of course we werne'a round either. But she made sure that the plants would survive," he pointed to the ceiling, and Cagalli's eyes shot upwards.

"She had someone comissioned to come in here and cut a tunnel in the stone ceiling for light and rain to move in," he added, his voice laced with a sort of emotion she couldn't begin to identify, "And that must be how they eventually thrived. Those," he said, his green eyes darting towards the side, "were what you could call pioneers."

Cagalli saw then that there were five or slightly more pots, broken at the sides with the vines spreading like thickets. It was impossible to count how many pots there were, they were all too irreparably fragmented to sum up at a single glance, and her tongue was lost, a rare occurence for someone like her.

Then Athrun slipped out of his reverie, and he looked a bit startled, as if she had gone there and shook him herself. Then he ran a hand awkwardly through his hair, as if he had suddenly realised how strange they looked, standing there like an Adam and Eve in a garden, clad in robes with no shoes, nothing else.Then he cleared his throat a little and said dryly, "Sorry about the rambling."

And just like that, she was shaken out of her reverie too, but she was glad and she moved languidly to him as they stood for a while longer, gazing at everything before them.

"Did your mother love the sun?" Cagalli inquired, rubbing her arms nervously.

He smiled gently, "A reason why she named me Athrun was its meaning as 'dawn'."

"Oh," Cagalli said, suddenly understanding, "So that's why she didn't name you after your father."

She had said the wrong thing, his brow suddenly knitted togehter and his eyes darkened from emerald to a forest colour, a bit wintry, and she took a step back from him, involuntarily, frightened at what she had said without thinking. But then he saw that she was frigthened, and his eyes softened and he pulled her nearer to him, apologising softly, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it that way. Just-"

He sighed a little and she waited in silence.

"Just that it was a decision I had to make in coming back here to this house," he said eventually, looking around, "I missed it too much. My father, I don't think he loved this place as much as my mother did, but even when he descended into madness in the end, I don't think he-"

She smiled knowingly at him, continuing confidently as he trailed off, "It didn't mean he loved both of you any less."

"I was afraid of becoming like him," Athrun said uneasily after a momentary pause, "He only wanted to do what he thought was right, he did everything against his conscience and fooled himself into believing that he owned none. All because he wasn't able to let go of my mother. There were times when I saw him and I could barely approach him, but he always kept a photograph of my mother near him. During the Second War, I- I imagined for a while that I was becoming like him, doing everything I could do and not knowing if it was right, but doing it because I saw no other way. The most ironic thing was that I left you and ORB to set out and try to right the wrongs my father did."

Then he smiled wryly, and asked almost bitterly, "I don't suppose my father made a very good first impression on you when you met him?"

She remembered the way Patrick Zala had been, she had been startled, almsot horrified to hear Athrun calling out desperately, "Father!" as they had flung open the doors and seen a deserted room, filled with computers with nobody to handle them, all but a dying Patrick Zala, choking on his own blood, bullet wounds bored into his flesh. She had never imagined, at sixteen, that she would have encountered so bitter and so pitiful a man, and then in that heady minute, she had looked at the world with different eyes. Athrun to her, he had been everything, she trusted him and she had thought that he was invicible then, he would not falter, and yet, his father had and so had he.

But she had loved Athrun more, she had sensed that he was more human and more humane than anybody else after the tragedy occruing before their very eyes in the first war. And she had given up everything, chased after him as he tried to self-destruct to cease the GENESIS and prevent a tragedy by creating one of his own, and Cagalli had screamed for him to return, to come back and fight the proper fight. But in truth, she didn't care what he did, as long he came back to her. And so she had chased after the Justice then, desperate to make him follow her back where she would be able to hold him with her own two arms.

And Patrick Zala had clutched Athrun's hand when Athrun had reached for him, but his last words had been filled with loathing, vengeance, and in that instant, Cagalli had realised that Patirck Zala was captured in the past, too bitter and too miserable to let go.

"No," Cagalli replied slowly, "He didn't. But I- I think I understood why he did what he did. And Athrun,"

She paused briefly, his eyes locked on hers, amber melding, consummating, into emerald, "I think he loved you more than he loved himself."

Then she looked around for the last time that day and offered, "Let's go. There are enough memories here already."

"Yes," he told her, his eyes determined but infinitely gentle when they gazed at her, "We have our own ones to create."


	13. Chapter 13

Disclaimer: As you all know, I don't own GS/GSD.R&R please.

**Warning: For those who don't like complications in the plots of fanfics they read, I suggest you stop at the previous chapter, just imagine the ultimate ending, (See Truth's Epilogue) has already been reached. I assure you though, Truth be Told ends on a less despairing note although the next segments, even this one, are going to be bumpy rides for fans of fairytales. I hope you'll enjoy this, nevertheless. ****I can assure those who continue reading, once again, there is a final, happy ending, mentioned in Truth. To reach there though, I can't assure you that you'll be seeing bunnies and butterflies and flowers by the roadside, heh.**

**Thank you to the many who PMed me, encouraging me to stick to my guns to reach the end as planned before instead of ending it with the previous chapter, like cara410 and Froggie and Pretz, you all were wonderful!**

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Chapter 13 

The streets were filled with people, perfect for concealment and disguise. Athrun had been reluctant to step out of the hosue at all, he told her, his eyes serious and no smile on his face, that he couldn't afford to have her running around everywhere in December City. But Cagalli had cajoled and threatened, more of the latter, until he had finally relented with a sigh.

But he had attached himself to her, stubbornly following her, not that she minded, just that a man with midnight blue hair was quite conspicous even with the coordinators around them. He had put on a pair of shades and she had arranged her hair into a sort of pony-tail that was distressingly stumpy with the strands escaping here and there, even though the tie was still intact due to the general length.

It was easy being lulled into a fairytale world where there was only him and her, and that nothing existed outside it, all this was too easy to take for granted, to easy to become addicted to. The days they had spent there were melodious, tender, no tension, no nothing, it wasn't a real world, as much as they both wanted to be in it.

It just wasn't a real world. How could an entire world of theirs exist in a single room in any case?

And Cagalli tried hard to be snappy and a killjoy, because she knew she was being drawn far too deep into a world like that. The house wasn't helping, it was secluded, a world consisted of a room, a room was a world, it was far too easy to fall in love with a place like that. It was far too simple to never return to ORB where she was needed and where she needed to be.

Somehow, Athrun noticed the slight gloominess in her, he knew what she knew for himself. He never offered to bring her back into the room that encased a forest again, and she never went back there either. The only places that she grew accustomed to in the house, entirely on purpose, of course, were the bedroom, the kitchen, and the dining hall. Other than that, Cagalli was reluctant to get used to other places, for fear that she would feel pain at leaving when her time was up and she had to go back to ORB.

Athrun realised this too, he left her to her own devices, although there was always a sort of undeniable regret in his eyes when Cagalli refused to become too well acquainted with the house. She refused to become addicted to the melodies the sort of world that lay before her was playing, she had to return to the clashing dischords and dissonants the real world offered.

This morning, she had insisted they go out. If they didn't, she might have been tempted to open doors and become enamoured even more by the house and the Athrun who was with her when they were in it.

And the town of December was mostly quiet, the morning wasn't a busy one, and the people who passed by did so without staring or pointing. Well, Cagalli liked that.

It was difficult walking in the streets with him. Granted, Athrun wasn't the sort who was overprotective or fussy, but he walked particularly slowly today, as if to slow her down so he could catch her if she slipped or something ridiculous and unlikely as that. She hissed in frustration and tried to speed up, but she couldn't do it without it being obvious; his hand was on hers. At some point, Cagalli wondered if they were conspicous, a tall, midnight-haired person walking side by side with her. She didn't realise that her blonde hair, in the sunlight was almost golden, she was no less noticeable than Athrun.

"In a hurry?" he remarked dryly, watching her trying to move quickly to nowehere in particular.

She glared poisonously at him. "No, just that we're walking at the pace of a snail. Any slower will be backwards, Athrun."

"Snails don't walk," Athrun corrected her mildly, still forcing her to walk at the foreign pace she was terribly unused to, "And you don't have to rush around, remember that there aren't any ministers waiting to pounce on you, nor are there any meetings to be held in ten minutes time."

She blinked once and sighed. Cagalli looked at him, he seemed top be enjoying himself, and there were no lines of tension in between his eyes, no strain of his jaw, just a tranquil sort of air. She was afraid then, that she wanted this kind of Athrun in this kind of place when reality wasn't like that, it wasn't like that at all. But this time, she knew he had brought her here precisely because he wanted to show her this side of the world. She saw it in his emerald eyes, and she stopped the retort slipping off the edge of her tongue.

And so, Cagalli conceded defeat. "Alright, and I suppose if I walk too quickly, the people around here will be startled."

It would have been like a tractor running though the midst of grazing cows, too idiotic and slow to move away.

They looked around. Everyone was walking, or rather strolling at such calm paces, Cagalli felt almsot disconcerted. December City was the kind of place that resembled a countryside, albeit a wealthy, plentiful one, and nobody seemed to be rrushing to work. Of course, they had jobs that didn't exactly demand full-time occuptaion, they were mostly traders and exporters, but then, they were peaceufl and mostly unassuming.Heck, they hadn't noticed Athrun much, and he was the head of a big-time security council!

"Funny how nobdy notices you," she mentioned offhandedly, as they passed by a little slop, trodding on the cobblestones and watching a man painting the scenery nearby. Athrun didn't look to comfortable at the way she tripped around on purpose, but she did it precisely to see him squirm. Cagalli wasn't a saddist, just that he had gotten on her nerves with his carefulness around her, and that had made her irrationally iritable although it wasn't obvious yet.

He frowned. "No, they don't really care about politics here, not after the war anyway. I'm a nobody here."

"And that's what you like," Cagalli added pointedly, as if echoing his thoughts.

Athrun was like that, he hated attention even though he always seemed to draw it. He could somehow, never fade into the background the way Kira could always manage to, and somehow, that made Athrun resent that inability to blend in perfectly well.

He cleared his throat awkwardly, embarrassed at the lack of defences around him, "What did the doctor say?"

The wind blew across the grass and the lake before them shone and glimmered as the morning's beams danced across the water's surface. Nearby, there was a child rowing a boat, huffing and puffing furiously, while an elder was fishing quite lazily and shouting orders for the boat to be rowed into the lake's centre, quite the epitome of child labour, Cagalli thought with some amusement.

"Nothing much," she said simply, "Just that the child's healthy so far, it's okay, although it doesn't seem to be a very active child, doesn't kick much, but that's fine he said, more kicking in the future. And the gender is to early to be confirmed, although the doctor had a lucky guess that it will be a girl.Give her some time, he said, it's been there for only a week or so, how's she supposed to kick anyway?"

"How'd he know that kind of things on whether the child's a girl?" Athrun asked doubtfully, staring at the trees in the front.

Inwardly, he was a bit terrified of being a father, it was all new to him and he still had to force on a brave front and convince Cagalli that they were going to be perfect as parents. But Athrun wasn't very convinced himself, not with a father like Patrick Zala anyway. Not that Cagalli knew, of course. There were some things Athrun kept away from Cagalli, and with good reasons backing his decision.

"Lucky guess," Cagalli repeated a bit impatiently.

They walked in awkward silence.

Then he spoke up regretfully, "I'll be leaving later in the afternoon, so take care and make sure you lock the doors at night. Enjoy your two days of leave, I don't suppose you'll be getting many more until later."

She grinned and reminded him carelessly, "I don't think Jun Thornier even knows that we're here."

He only frowned.

Paranoid git that he was.

Athrun had been worried about leaving her in the house alone, she was barely two weeks into the pregnancy, he said, and he was afraid she'd need help. But she had laughed it off, knowing perfectly well that he couldn't extend his leave, and that she didn't want to appear helpless and stupid either. But he had made her promise to call him if she had any trouble, no matter how slight, and that she'd call the neighbours too.

When he left later, she simply waved and avoided any contact with him, and the slight dismay and doubt in his eyes made her squirm this time. Cagalli couldn't help it though, she didn't want him touching her, but she couldn't place her finger on the why part either.

"I'll be seeing you soon," he reminded her a bit guardedly.

She smiled a bit reluctantly and allowed him to kiss her, but only on her forehead.

She recoiled a bit even then, and he looked slightly puzzled, but shrugged and left somehow.

The house was empty for the rest of the day without him around, so Cagalli spent her entire day opening up random chests of old clothes and items. He had handed her the keys before he left, he told her amusedly, that she had two more days left and amusing herself was probably necessary in a town like this. For a while, she thought that she might have found a diary or two of Athrun's parents, or his, even, but then she scolded herself later. She wasn't Alice in Wonderland, what right did she have hoping for such ridiculous things?

Because Cagalli Yula Atha was ORB's Supreme Commander, on leave or not, in a supremely fairy-tale like world or not.

The whole day passed, just her and the house.

And the next day, she woke up alone. But it wasn't that bad, the next morning, she'd be back in ORB with him.

She sighed and flopped down in the evening, suddenly tired with the day's events, or rather, lack of thereof. She considered giving him a call to check how Athrun was doing in ORB, but then she decided against it, because she didn't want to make herself too needy on Athrun, she hated that sort of thing.

Of course, Cagalli secretly hoped that he would call, but then he didn't, he must have gotten the message she had been trying to send across.

The evening was strange, she got out a tv dinner and ate it sullenly, staring at nobody sitting across her. She didn't finish any of it, and Athrun had prepared something he deemed as more nutritious, but then Cagalli had ignored it. Her appetite was failing her anyway, the tv dinner was somehow even more inappetising than anything else, and she felt dinstinctively nauseous.

She cursed loudly and threw the rest of it away, promising that she'd get on a shuttle soon and get back to ORB, she was getting sick of the place already. Perhaps it was the lack of Athrun's presence, funny how she wanted to drive him away at one point and get him back at another. She was a bundle of contradictions lately, she didn't know why she was behaving like that either.

The night was even stranger, she wasn't used to sleeping alone again like this, but she eventually fell asleep, feeling queasy and downright terrified. The only way she slept in the end was by hiding under the quilts in complete, safe darkness, until weariness claimed her in its totality.

She dreamt of strange, warped things, purple roses, putrid and lethal, and that Kira was telling her that Leon was already five years old while she had been sleeping, and then she woke up in total shock.

It took a few seconds for the realisation to hit her, that she was curled up in a ball, a hand clutching her throbbing forehead and the other near her abdomen.

She was in absolute pain, her forehead was bathed in sweat, and she was crying out and shaking uncontrollably.

She somehow rolled out, got herself to the kitchen, still panting and thinking that at least the pain wasn't so bad yet, and forced some headache and indigestion pills down, gulping water and spilling most of it clumsily, all over the counter. She promised herself that she would clean it up in the morning when she felt better, and she half-stumbled her way back to bed.

And she lay there, panting slighty as the pain started subsiding, but then she felt uneasiness encase her being, and she picked up her cell unsteadily, and made a call.

A series of connections later, Athrun answered, and his voice was concerned.

She couldn't really hear what he was saying, there was a roar in her head, she didn't remember that he had carefully instructed her to call the hospital with a number stored on her cell, and it slipped her mind, almost completely, that she was vulnerable with her first child. He was asking if she was alright, what the matter was, where the pain was, and she was in a blur, telling him dazedly that she had taken painkillers and that she was fine, the indigestion would be fine in the morning, the buzzing would be gone, she thought she'd just call to say goodnight.

He was shouting something now, she couldn't hear him.

And in her pain and semi-consciouness, Cagalli forgot that he had made her promise to call the neighbours the minute she experienced pain, no matter where it was, so that they could do something even if she or he couldn't. And then she giggled insanely and muttered that they would have to buy a birthday present for Leon, he was already five this year.

Then the darkness pervaded her and she smiled deliriously and said goodnight to a now screaming Athrun, hung up, stumbled back into the bed and did call the neigbour, she faintly recalled saying something, crying out in pain as she was enveloped by it, and then Cagalli , now hissing in pain, lost her consciousness as she miscarried there and then.


	14. Chapter 14

Disclaimer: I don't own GS/GSD. Please R&R

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Chapter 14

Athrun was sitting in a chair outside the ward, his eyes closed, his jaw tight, his fists clenched, but no expression, none whatsoever except the signs of tension that were more or less telltale. He always shifted into numbness when he had to kill, but now, he knew it was the pain. The pain itself was numbing.

The guilt was worse, she had been alone when she had lost their child. And he hadn't even been there to bring her to where the pain would stop so her life would at least be saved.

_"Leon's five this year!"_

Leon was only one.

Cagalli had called him as he was finishing his work, preparing to go home. She had called, and he had imagined for a minute that she was in trouble, but then he thought that perhaps, she was calling to say goodnight. But he suspected something was wrong, she was speaking deliriously, like she was in intense pain, so intense that she was numbed, and her voice was breathless although the things she had been saying were perfectly normal at first.

But then she had revealed, even in her daze, that she had been experiencing some pain here and there and that was when Athrun lost it. He had shouted in his fear, not quite caring that every ZAFT soldier around in the vicinity would hear his voice, for her to call for help with the numbers he had pre-stored, but she was telling him about something absolutely irrelelvant, and that was when he realised that she was in too much pain to think straight.

The phone had gone dead then, and he had rushed out, driven like a madman to the shuttle grounds and used his authority as ETERNITY's head to rush back to PLANT. He had yelled his orders, akin to Yzak, and the shocked soldiers had sped up the operations at double time. They hadn't even questioned what the matter was when they had seen the beads of sweat on his forehead, the crazed look in his eyes, the tension in his jaw, and the terror running though his frame.

They had never seen Athrun Zala, famously cool and collected, emotionless, well-controlled, in this state.

By the time he had rushed back to the house, he wondered if it had been some imagination on his part, some weird mess-up, since it was quiet. The crickets were chirping merrily, and he had called her name, receiving silence, and rushed into the bed room, and seen that it was totally empty, save for the quilts that were thrown haphazardly on the floor with little care to how they were neatly arranged before.

He glanced around in a panic, wondering what the hell had been going on, and then his phone rang.

The kindly lady's words brought a chill into him, and he trembled like he had contracted the ague. So Cagalli hadn't broken her promise after all, she had called the neighbours before collapsing.

And then he looked at the bed, for the first time, noticing, not the absence of Cagalli's sleeping form, but the blood, not very much of it, just light drops here and there, like blood-red flowers that made him stumble backwards. But it was enough for Athrun to sink to the floor, crying desperately.

The neighbours had called to say that she was safe in a hospital which Athrun was now rushing to, the doctors had gotten hold of her in time, they had forced her through an operation that had saved her life and-

Athrun had cut the line off.

When he had reached, the neigbour had comforted him, and Athrun had been too dazed to say anything, too numb to be grateful that she was still alive although she could have died if the doctors hadn't saved her by flushing out whatever that was causing her pain.

The neighbour had left eventually, they had gotten no response out of the young man who had sank into a chair, his eyes, one described to the other, souless.

There were three in total, all elderly, all very well jaded with a wealth of pain they knew for themselves. But when they looked at the man before them, they were silent, they could offer nothing more.

One muttered, "I think we best keep this to ourselves, I don't feel so good telling anyone, lest of all the media and-"

He stopped abruptly, Athrun Zala was staring through him, pain in his emerald eyes.

The others took him and pulled him away, they left in a hurry, in a sort of heightened state of shock and ghoulish excitement, although it wasn't intentional at all. The night had held some unexpected events for them, and yet, they were wise and prudent enough to keep their mouths tightly closed.

The nighbours had rushed in with the spare key the Chairman Zala had requested they keep, they had found his wife in the bed, unconscious, bloodstains around her. They knew it had been too late, the baby was lost, but then there was still the mother left, and they had hauled her up and gotten her to a hospital, and then prayed that the young woman with hair that seemed to be spun from sunshine, would live.

One who had been sitting with her at the back had prayed for the first time in ten years, that Cagalli Yula Atha would live. The baby was lost, they all knew that. And the most heartwrenching part was not the fact that they coudl ahve done nothing to prevent it, as the doctors had assured them, rather, it had been the fact that she had miscarried alone, possibly in a stupor nobody was there to bring her out of.

Not that the baby would have been saved anyway. It just wasn't meant to be.

But how were they supposed to tell Athrun Zala that? And how was he supposed to tell his wife that in return?

And the neighbour who had received the call personally had sat alone for a while, crying and sobbing into her hands for the young woman and the baby she had lost. Cagalli, she knew her name was Cagalli, would probably live, the doctors had complete faith in their abilities to flush out the tissue that would otherwise claim her life, but then the neighbour had seen the look in Athrun Zala's eyes.

And then she swore to herself that she would never let anyone present here tonight say anything about the tragedy. They had done enough.

One of them had sighed, shaking her head as she left. Terrible, she said to herself, poor man's going to have to fight through alot to get to his wife, she's lost the child and he's probably lost himself too.

She didn't know how much truth her words had struck at.

He sat, alone, his head in his hands, asking, "Why?"

Of course, he found no answer, and the answer he got later wasn't satisfactory either. But to be fair to the doctors, no answer would have been, not when his child was already lost.

The doctors didn't appear until an hour and a half later, and the only sign of acknoledgement they gave was a curt nod, although it wasn't unkind, just to indicate that Cagalli had survived the operation. A doctor had paused briefly and looked at Athrun, realising that what he was trying to tell Athrun about the first-trimester miscarriage, and the undetermined cause was not getting through in the least.

His emerald eyes held nothing except pain, and the doctor knew then that Athrun Zala was hearing what he had to say, but whoever said that hearing was the same as listening?

"Among factors known to cause first-trimester miscarriages," the doctor said quietly, "the most common is a chromosomal abnormality in the fetus. If a cell has the wrong number of chromosomes, the embryo has a chromosomal abnormality and is usually miscarried.Up to seventy percent of first-trimester miscarriages are caused by chromosomal abnormalities in the fetus.Because your wife's pregnancy was lost in barely just two weeks, I suspect it is the case for this, although a miscarriage like this is virutally impossible to pinpoint in its cause."

He paused, running a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair, trying not to notice the look in the Chairman Zala's eyes.

Of course he recognised Athrun Zala, the man was quite media-shy, but if he didn't know ETERNITY's chairman, then he was probably a reclusive hermit or something. His marriage to ORB's Princess or Supreme Commander, whichever mattered more, had been worldwide news, the world had rejoiced for them when she had given her hand to him. The doctor had lived through the first and second war, he had seen pictures of the Justice and later, the Infinite Justice and the pilot in war pictures, mug shots, that sort of thing, and Athrun Zala had never looked more joyous and at peace with the world when the marriage's photographs had been published in thousands of pictures everywhere. The world had rejoiced for him then. And now-

The doctor studied the man before him, planning what to say next.

Athrun Zala was twenty-three this year, the doctor thought to himself, a perfect age for a father, pity-

He looked away, and then he patted Athrun's shoulder gently and said gruffly, "I'm sorry son, your wife will recover, take heed that you help her. Give her as much space as possible if she needs it, I recommend letting her recover at her own speed."

He looked at Athrun now, and saw that Athrun's pain wasn't fading. Of course it wasn't, how could it, so quickly with a few words?

Condolences were too formal, pity was slightly contemptuous, sympathy became patronising in a person's unbearable grief, and words were a hindrance rather than a help.

These things were always difficult, weren't they?

So he left, pointing to signal that Athrun could go in now.

When he went in, Athrun could only stare in silence. The heartbeat radar was steady, it was giving out little beeps periodically in comfortingly jagged lines, electric green, across the pitch black screen. The bed was white, on it lay Cagalli, chained to the machines that were keeping her alive but seemed to be stealing the fire from her even as she lay there.

Cagalli there, his Cagalli, not looking up and calling his name, not laughing, not speaking, how could she?

The nurses had clothed her in the hospital gown, white, it was a failed attempt at decency. Her original clothes would be washed of the stains, he wondered if they would come off easily.

From afar, she appeared fine, soft, snow-like in the white, but as Athrun approaced, steadily, his heart heavy, his mind still numbed, he saw that she looked less like a slumbering angel up close. Her eyes were tightly shut in a pained wince that went straight to his heart as well, although her golden eyelashes were splayed delicately over her cheekbones. She was beautiful in her fraility, but he knew that that beauty was a warped, terrible, helpless one, no soul, no life, simply his Cagalli, close to death, saved, and barely able to be in this world.

And her forehead was beaded with sweat. Her lips, or what he could make out of them with a mask over them, were deathly pale, she looked frozen, encapsulated even.

He approached her, hauling a chair roughly and sinking into it, watching her silently. Then he reached out and touched her hand, it was icy to touch and he recoiled.

Her fingers twitched a little, his attention was drawn to her entire arm, the sharp needles piercing into her delicate flesh, and his eyes travelled up the tubes to the fluid bags she was attached to. The beeping was still going steady, almost rhythmic even.

They hadn't bothered covering her with a blanket, so the important instruments wouldn't be allowed to get entangled with each other. But she was lying there, crudely arranged with countless tubes here and there, and Athrun closed his eyes, involuntarily.

Then she stirred and her eyes fluttered open and shut forcefully, blinded for an instant by the bright hospital lights. And she struggled to speak, not finding the strength to remove the mask from her mouth, her arms binded by her own lack of strength and by the tubes protruding obsecenely from the flesh.

He lifted it tenderly, and put it aside, and he caressed her cheek lovingly with his fingertips, even though he was weeping inside.

"Athrun," she smiled weakly, "I called you to say I was fine, why'd you come back all the wa-"

And she remembered.

Her smile froze. Her amber eyes held panic and fear.

He couldn't smile back at her, his fingers were still gentle on her cheek, but they were ice now. She was trembling, searching his face for reassurance, hope, but she found nothing but an impermeable wall. She knew however, that it was pain behind the wall.

"The baby," Cagalli rasped, "The baby-?"

He looked away, and his face crumpled. He forced out, "Be strong, Cagalli."

And she stared at him, realisation dawning on her pale face, and she screamed in pain, but the scream died in her throat before it even forced its way out, and when he mustered the courage to look at Cagalli once more, he saw that there were tears trickling from her eyes, running down her cheeks, into her golden hair that lay limply, framing her beautiful, but now wan face.

His fingertips were wet with her tears, and she was choking on her own sobs, crying for him, for herself, for the child they had lost. Cagalli didn't cry very often, and if she did, there was a very good reason for it. She was too fierce, too proud, too free-spirited for that. But she couldn't help it now, she just couldn't. Athrun, on the other hand, couldn't cry, no more tears would form, they had all been spent earlier, and now, he had to be strong for her.

But he couldn't even lift her up to take her in his arms to comfort her. The tubes jutted out everywhere, the hospital gown didn't seem snow coloured, it looked more like the leprosy's white, and he waited until she was spent from her crying.

And he wiped her tears one by one, feeling her tremble like a leaf in the cold breeze, and then Athrun leant forward. Her grief washed over him, combining with his, re-emerging, strengthening the pain in him, but he forced his voice to be soft and comforting as he told her gently, "Sleep and forget."

"How?" Cagalli cried. He could see the wildness in her eyes, her pupils were dilated like a feline's, he could see her eye whites, she looked insane in her grief.

"Close your eyes," Athrun recited softly, as if singing a lullaby a child to sleep, the irony pierced his heart like a sword, "Close your eyes. Be still."

She did as he asked, her pain made her see no other way. And he slipped a hand onto hers, covering it with his own, trying to ignore the bile that rose in his throat as he felt a tube stretching as her fingers curled around his. She needed him, he had to make her sleep so the wounds would close.They had to. If they didn't, he wouldn't know what he'd do.

Come to think of it, Kira and Lacus didn't even know she was pregnant. It had been too early to tell them about the pregnancy, too goddamn early and now-

He looked away, and she saw him turning away from her, and she closed her eyes, hurt.

And finally, the dry sobs stopped, and he knew she was lost in a fitful slumber.

Eventually, he was a slave to his weariness, and he fell asleep, his hand still protective around hers, his head lolling softly on his neck, neither letting go of each other's hands. Some time later, the doctor peeped in to see if the tempest had spent itself, and he noted with some pain and some helpless satisfaction, that both were asleep.

"Good," the doctor whispered to nobody in particular, "Sleep is the best escape."

He plodded off to see his other patients, to pay them his visits, but not once, did he mention anything about Chairman Zala and Supreme Commander Atha of PLANT and ORB respectively. Some of his patients who were well enough to gossip asked if ETERNITY's chairman was really in the hospital with his wife, and the doctor looked at them and said simply, "Yes, appendicitis."

If the doctor said so, then it must have been, so no more questions were asked and generally, nobody saw a midnight-haired man who had hid his face in his hands and wept alone, just hours ago.

And now, nobody saw a girl who looked as if she were a tortured angel, get up slowly from her bed, still in the hospital's gown, unplugging the tubes and needles and everything from her, looking sadly at the man who slept in a chair next to her.

Cagalli moved out of the room, slowly, achingly, her feet were unclad. She ignored the fluffy white slippers lying near Athrun's chair, she cared not for those. And she plodded out slowly, every step was a stab in her side, and her wrists, bound previously to instruments, ached. She moved languidly, passing some patients playing cards, those were children, she looked smilingly at them but they ignored her, they were too engrossed in their game, still shouting and talking merrily to each other.

She sighed softly to herself and rubbed her eyes. No tears would come, and her eyes were badly swollen, a glance in the window told her so.

Her heart was so heavy, she thought she wouldn't be able to move, but somehow she did, and she moved on, like a weary, wounded, but equally fierce warrior that couldn't die just yet. Cagalli wondered why she wasn't dead with the pain shooting everywhere in her heart, she stared woodenly at the flashing buttons in the lift, hearing the recorded voice telling her which storeys she was passing by. It didn't really make a difference then, she had pressed only one button.

She was silent, until a bell broke the quiet, and then she knew that she had reached her destination.

She pressed the doorhandle down, and a pathway of light shone into her face. The sun would rise in twenty minutes time, she could approximate that at very least. That would be enough time for her to think and decide.

The rooftop garden was well-kept, the watersprinklers weren't in function, but that was obvious, no sprinklers would have been on at five-thirty in the morning. The plants were green and lush, the foliage would have been pleasing if she had had thge mood to be pleased by those plants and their delicate blossoms.

Cagalli stopped, staring around. there wasn't anybody there, so she ran a hand tiredly through her hair, feeling the strands bend to her force. Her gown was pressing against her skin, it felt foreign against her, and she looked at it, frowning a little.

The wind was strong, she shivered a little in her thin gown, but then she ignored it. She had no time or will to matter about these, no time at all. And then Cagalli swung her leg, somehow managing to make it move fluidly over the metal rails, and then the other, and she sat firmly, her hands supporting her, facing the open sky, seeing the lights from buildings in the distance winking at her instead of stars. There was a wide ledge beneath her feet, lest she fall, one could even walk on it. In fact, anybody could, as long as the person wasn't afraid of falling down, or was at least foolhardy enough to court death like that.

It was still dark, light wasn't very apparent, nor was it strong either. She sat there, by the rails, quite unafraid of the height of the rooftop garden, quite fearless of the possibility of falling off the rails, stumbling over the concrete ledge to certain death, quite certain that she belonged there.

There was silence around, only just the wind blowing.

And fourteen levels below, Athrun awoke with a start and saw that the bed, previously containing Cagalli, was empty.


	15. Chapter 15

Disclaimer: I don't own GS/GSD. R&R please.

* * *

Chapter 15 

"You saw a blonde woman, didn't you?" he demanded fiercely, and the child looked up at him, quite shocked that a politician was half-shouting at him, interrupting his game of cards.

"Now, sir," the nurse said authoritatively, "I'm sure your wife is taking a drink in the canteen, recovering from the nasty appendictis, Philip here's probably talking about another blonde woman who passed by, don't frighten him now."

Athrun ignored her, and he only scarcely stopped himself from rattling the boy in his rage.

She looked strangely at him, wondering why Athrun Zala, Chairman of ETERNITY looked so terror-stricken, his eyes swollen and dark circles under his pale skin. She studied him closely, he looked like a hunted animal, good-looking, yes, if not very, but there was something vaguely unsettling about him now that she had never seen in the photographs.

Then the doctor cut in, and his voice was urgent like Athrun Zala's too.

"Landia," he said sternly, "Let Philip here speak."

"Philip," Athrun said, trying not to put any force into his speech, "Tell me properly again. You said you saw, while playing you cards, you saw a blonde woman?"

The child nodded helplessly, he was still clutching onto his cards while his playmates just looked scared. They had stayed awake the whole night, playing cards and amusing themselves, and then a man they all recognised, Athrun Zala, had barged in, demanding to know if they had seen a blonde woman, dressed in similar hospital gowns. Their nurse had rushed in upon hearing the commotion, and then she had seen Athrun Zala too, and then called the doctor in. Up till then, nothing made sense to the children.

One looked up hopefully at him, wanting to ask about how piloting was like, but then something warned him that Athrun Zala wasn't keen on answering that at this particular moment.

"And she didn't stop to say anything? Nothing?" Athrun questioned, his eyes sharp.

"No," the child offered timidly, "She looked at us, I saw that she had a strange look on her face, but then she left, I saw her go up the elevator, I thought it was weird because nobody can be that hungry so early in the morning."

"Did you note which level she went up to?" the doctor asked keenly, signalling to the nurse to move out of the room. She was starting to look suspicious, something was fishy here, why were they so concerned about a single woman who was recovering from appendicitis?

"Must be those damn politicians, important and the lot, they don't want no people gossiping." she muttered as she moved out.

They all ignored her, and the child, pondering the doctor's question, answered shyly, "I-I don't think so. But it must have been a very high level, the lift didn't arrive at our level again until quite a while later. Unless there were other people who wanted an early breakfast too, I suppose they must have been very hungry like her."

Athrun didn't hear the last sentence, he was already sprinting out of the room, jamming a button furiously with his index finger, and he sprung into it, pressing the button that would send the elevator to the roof. The elderly doctor, surprisingly agile for his age, skidded in at the side, and he looked at Athrun and warned, "Don't panic, your wife might be going through immediate depression, although this could be an acute case, possibly one of the more extreme ones we've faced. Of course, it might be a state of paranoia that you're going through, on no grounds can we confirm that the Representative is really not elsewhere. I'll check the canteen, you check the rooftop garden. If I find nobody there, I will meet you at the rooftop garden. But if you find her there, I must stress that you not panic and ruffle her."

He faced the doctor, his jaw was set in one firm hard line, and his answer was harsh.

"I've killed grown-men and never felt a thing, I think I can handle my wife," he said firmly.

On hindsight, he might have just something humourous, but then, it really wasn't meant to be.

And the doctor smiled softly, the smile, although gentle, was melancholic at its edges, and he exited.

Athrun moved swiftly out at the highest level, where the rooftop garden was, and yanked open the door, the grey one, in front of him. And then he gazed around in the semi-darkness, the wind was howling in his ears, shrieking.

He called out softly, "Cagalli?"

There wasn't an answer, and he increased his volume, gazing around, quite desperately.

And then he spotted her. Sitting directly there, on the metal rails, her back facing him. If she lost her footing and rolled off the ledge, she would surely die. Perhaps she had been planning for this the minute she had awoken, perhpas she hadn't been sleeping, perhaps she had only pretended to be doing that until he had fallen asleep too.

His heart dropped, but he was prepared for this.

She turned around, only her head, she looked at him from the corner of her eyes, and he noted how tired she looked. Her hair was blowing in the wind, golden, strangely luxiourous, made lustrous though the pregnancy had ended hours ago, and there was an ironic, luminosity in her skin although her face was haunted. She was like a living corpse, haunted but glorious, pitiful but stunning, broken but marvellously beautiful.

And for a second, his heart skipped a beat, he feared he would fail to make her come back to him.

"Athrun."

He watched quietly as she sighed, still standing, half-frozen, while she sat off the rails, directly above the concrete ledge, fourty-five levels above ground.

The wind howled, and he wondered why and how it had gone so wrong.

"Cagalli," Athrun said softly, "I thought you'd be here."

It was a statement to stall for time, more than anything else, he was moving quietly behind her, like a shadow, cunningly like a serpent, but then they both knew he was encroaching upon her.

"I didn't know where else I could go to to think," she replied hopelessly, still gazing ahead at the still-dark skies. The buildings around them were menaching, steel-colured, cold glass windows in the distance, and Athrun felt a chill. She swung her legs slightly, and he started, there was something ominous, something menaching in the way she swung her legs. Almost as if tempting herself to slide off the rails and jump, just to see what it would be like to leap off and plummet down. Just to feel what it would be like, almost as if she had lost all fear and ability to think and feel.

"The doctor was looking for you," he said carefully, keeping his eyes planted on her, "He was worried about you. He thought you might be-"

He fell silent, he was busy concentrating on moving up behind her, and she looked at him slowly, her eyes were red.

"The doctor," Cagalli murmured, "He is very kind."

"Yes he is," Athrun agreed carefully, still inching nearer and nearer to her, trying not to imagine that the pounding he was hearting came from his own heart, "And he's worried about you, just like I am."

She laughed, and he wondered what was going through her mind, but then the sound died in the wind, like those bell chimes that rang hopelessly in blizzards, their sounds lost in the howling, lost by their mere insignificance in comparison to the forces around them.

Then he swung himself, neatly and fluidly, over the rails, until he sat next to her, and he reached out and grasped her hand, preparing to pull her back if she leapt off unexpectedly. Her eyes flew to his, he saw that they were wide, surprised at his actions, and he said uncertainly, "I thought you might be-"

Her hair was still blowing, lost in the wind, she looked away and he saw that she sighed inwardly although it was not done outwardly. Her skin looked soft, slightly tinged with peach, but there was something grey, grave, sick about it, then he realised that it had been made supple with her dried tears.

"You know," he said somewhat rashly, "Someone once told me that the greater fight was to live, the greater battle to continue on. I don't think you'd go back and say you were wrong, you're far too proud for that, you're far too proud to tell me that all you said before doesn't hold truth now. Cagalli Yula Atha hates admitting she's wrong, you won't do that now, I know you won't."

He was rambling, he was being presumptuous, something he abhorred being, something Cagalli knew he never was, but then now, there was a thread of urgency weacing its way through him, he needed to do something, he wanted to do something.

The doctor had reminded him not to aggravate Cagalli, but then he couldn't help speaking as he thought. Athrun Zala, brilliant tacticist, controlled soldier, firm deductionist, was only a man when he dealt with matters concerning Cagalli, she was his pillar, a sort of sky to him, he couldn't afford to think in advance, he couldn't begin to rationalise, infer and think on his feet then. All he could do was to try and make her stay on.

She looked sharply at him, her face held pain.

"Don't mock me. Don't flatter me. I never once considered ending this," Cagalli said, her voice low, tired, sonorous, proud, weak, miserable, triumphant, all these mixed into a dispassionate sort of emotion he couldn't decipher or even begin to. These contradictions were just there, he could do nothing to sort them out to understand the tone itself, but the intent was fully comprehended, he, after all, might have been the father of her first child, he might have been a father.

He thought he felt something in him break more than it already had.

He stared into her face, searching for any sign of a lie, but there was only misery there.

"I suppose I could have jumped or something," she said softly, taking her hand away from his, he panicked for a split-second, he thought she was going to lunge herself forward, but her words were calm, controlled, they were all that kept him from losing his mind there and then.

Cagalli looked away. "I don't really have-"

Her voice cracked, but she went on, her words a sudden, terrible rush, and her eyes were wild. Once, Athrun had seen a horse, chased and pursued by hunters for four days and four nights, on the fifth morning, its mane was no longer chestnut but white, it's eyes were rimmed with white and it had insanity blooming within. She looked like that now, and he was sickened by the realisation that he found her fraility exquisite. Fear was running though his veins like poision now, but he showed no sign. He was too well-trained for that.

"-the courage to jump. I could never kill myself, if I am incapable of doing anything, it must be killing myself. I came up here to think, because nowhere else would have been suitable enough. I wanted to go where nobody else would be. I would never leave the world like this; I don't want to give up on life like this, Kira would be disappointed, Lacus too, and you'd never forgive me, would you?"

She looked at him mutely, her grief taking away her ability to pronounce anymore words. Her words, jumbled together, incoherent, made him understand even more than if she had spelt evey single word perfectly out for him.

"I wouldn't," Athrun replied, he bit every word bitterly, "I won't ever, if you choose to go without me, after telling me all that that made me abandon the Justice at Genesis. I'd never forgive you, I'd hold it against you even. You said I was an idiot for being so heroic, that all I wanted was to save those I deemed important without realising that I was causing them more pain, so I chose to go back with you. Now, you cannot do what I chose not to. I will be selfish and keep you by me, I won't allow you to go like that."

His voice was steady, it trembled only when he said the word 'go', and then he was silent, inside, he was proud of his ability not to break down. There were a few, lost, misplaced even, tears sliding tiredly down her cheeks and she wiped them away, and he was glad to see that she did them as if they had been proof of cardinal sin, an offence, as if they had insisted on escaping from her eyes the way convicts would kill to break out from jail.

And probably, they had insisted on that escape, precisely that.

He moved back over the rails, safe again, and on impulse, he slid his arms, slowly, around her shoulders, encircling her chest, one after the other, although he knew his touch would be possibly, more hurtful than comforting, right after the child had been lost. She started, but then an instant later, she woodenly, numbly leant back against his chest, tortured. Then her hands slid up to touch the arms around her shoulders and she whispered hoarsely, like she had been screaming her lungs out over and over again, "I will go back now."

Perhaps she had been screaming in agony, just that he hadn't seen her lose control yet, and then he knew that she would have never let him in any case.

He silently helped her over the rails, she stood there, him holding her hands, she looking at her feet, stubbornly avoiding his gaze, he staring at her.

The doctor, hidden behind the door, sighed, although it wasn't a particularly unhappy one, then he turned away to leave.

The wind was still howling, still freezing the wetness on her cheeks, until they had no proof of existence, save for the slight frozen, stiffness of the skin. She was barefoot, clad in only the hospital gown, Spartan and wounded like a hunted animal.

But around them, the warmth was ebbing, circulating, concentrating upon their bodies, again, just as it did every day, just like it would every day for the rest of the time, if they chose to live on to witness it doing as it did now.

The sun was rising above them, just as it had always done, just as it would always do.

He brought her back to ORB that very afternoon, and he informed Kisaka that she would be taking a prolonged rest for a week or two. Kisaka, bless him, held back all questions, he simply assumed that Cagalli's flu was more of a hindrance than expected, and Athrun knew that even if the man suspected that anything might be wrong, Kisaka was too faithful to question if not offered anything.

She rested a week, he went back to work as usual. The doctor had told him to treat her normally, try to pretend that it was life back to how it had always been, because that would have been the most effective way to ensuring that it would be. It wounded Athrun to not be close to her, but he endured it silently like he was a mute, he thought that it was the best way to bring Cagalli back to life.

Her body was healing quite well, rapidly even, he made sure that she took her medication and insisted that she sleep more than twelve hours a day for optimum rest. But that was partially so that if she was sleeping, he would not even have the chance to try and talk to her and force her to be reliant on him.

Cagalli didn't speak much, he hated the silence sometimes, but then he endured it, more for her sake than his.

Ocassionally, Cagalli would venture to ask if he would stay with her in the day during weekends, but he would firmly and as gently as he could allow, refuse her. He was reluctant to let her come close to him, her wounds had to be healed by herself first, only when she felt it was time, would he allow life to go on properly.

But then she was becoming more distant from him, he was almost estranged from her to a certain extent.

Part of the healing process, he convinced himself, leave her alone if she needs to be.

A month later, it was still difficult for both of them.

Cagalli had already returned to work, ORB was country she was in charge of running, she never shirked her duties, never, and Athrun threw himself headlong into his work. Neither could afford not to do so, if they didn't, then the nightmares that sometimes haunted both of them would come in the day.

Sometimes, she returned home, and she would eat, silently, only mildly responsive to his attempts to hold a conversation with her. And Athrun tried not to insist that she heal quickly, how could he insist on that, when he wasn't even capable of it himself?

He left her mostly alone, he was afraid to speak to her, to force her to recover faster than what she deemed appropiate. There were times when an entire day would pass with them exchanging no more than a few sentences. He was in pain, inside, but she never seemed to want to say anymore, she never approached him to speak about anything more, and he endured it, biting the bullets as bravely as he could.

At times, Cagalli would search the newspapers in a frenzy, every single page, every single paragraph, to spot a mention of anything of her in the hospital December City had. Nothing appeared, and she would breathe heavily in her relief, frightened that Kira and Lacus would know, and they would try to speak to her and make sure that she was alright. She didn't want to speak about it, and Athrun understood this. He never made an attempt to force her to speak about what had happened. The next day, she would search again, until two months passed, and she could finally stop.

There were times when Athrun caught her staring silently at him, as if she were about to say something. He was afraid that he had forced her to, he never ventured to ask her what was on her mind, afraid that she would be forced to tell him something just to answer him. She never said anything much after the failed attempt to speak, he told himself it was for the best, although he would ahve very much preferred to hear her speak to him

He tried with his utmost effort, to carry on as if nothing had happened, but it was difficult, precisely because something had. Athrun never once breathed a word to Kira, he knew Cagalli would have been shattered even more, sometimes he wondered if he was doing the right thing by keeping silent, but then he couldn't bear to bring harm to Cagalli. Lacus might have been able to sort something out, but then these days, Cagalli wasn't interested in hearing about Leon, there was a seed of bitterness she tried to keep hidden, yet Athrun knew it had been irrevocably sowed. The most he could amuse her with by telling her about Leon's antics as the child approached his second birthday, was only sufficient enough to see her eyes warm up a little and her lips curve reluctantly into a wistful smile. She never laughed much these days anyway, Kisaka blamed it on the workload, but Cagalli declined to have any, any at all, lifted off her shoulders.

And then, sometimes, Cagalli sat in the drawing room, she didn't write letters to anybody much, Athrun did most of the talking to Kira and Lacus, they didn't suspect anything, it was mostly quite a firm facade that they had simply returned from the short holiday and life had gone on. But Athrun knew that she wept inside, quietly enough for him not to notice, but then he still knew. He never went in, although he would have preferred to rush in and try anything, any way that he could, to comfort her, to make Cagalli smile for him the way she had once done, but then the doctor's words rang in his head.

Athrun would give her as much space and as much time as she needed.

He tried not to touch her, he didn't want her to feel forced back into the speed of life when she was still healing from the wounds that he was desperately trying to recover from too. Sometimes, during certain nights when he was still awake, trying, desperately to sleep to preserve his energy for work the next day, she would tug at his sleeves and curl into his arms for comfort and warmth, and his heart would pick up, speed madly and pound insanely as he gave in and allowed himself to take the oasis of her embrace.

And he imagined that in the morning, she would have finally recovered, and the distance he was trying so hard to keep would finally have fulfilled its purpose, and Cagalli would laugh and smile for him again. He always forced himself to let go of her after a while, he didn't want to force her to need him to recover, he'd give her as much distance as she needed to live properly again.

But in the morning, nothing had changed, her eyes were cold and lost again, and he wondered when it would all be over.

Once, nearly three-quarters of a year since her grief had erupted like irretractable scars on flesh, he had grown tired.

She had been sitting in the drawing room again, he had entered, noting that she was simply staring into space, wearing the green dress she always wore at home, and she was fiddling with some blank pieces of paper absently. He wondered if she was still thinking about an incident he had tried so much to make her forget, even distancing himself for her sake.

When Athrun had entered, she had looked up, and then her eyes had became dull once more, and she had murmured a greeting in response to his returning home, and he had strode to her, harsh and impatient in his step, and ordered brusquely, "Get up!"

Her eyes drifted, almost lazily, to his face, something moved in the glass-like amber, and Cagalli had remained seated where she had been when he had came in.

"When will you be ready to let go?Are you going to just go on like this and never learn to move forward?" He was railing now, he hadn't lost his temper at her for a long time, now, he was impatient, furious at her inability to rely on others, her choice not to rely on him, his inability to do anything that would make her move on even though he was trying so hard and dying for his efforts.

She shook her head tiredly, and then she opened her mouth mutely at first and answered softly, "I already have. You just never realised it."

Her voice held no untruths, it was steady, and then he knew that he had been wrong to assume that she had been still unwilling to let go of what had happened. There was strength as she stood, her stance aloof, he was startled to see that there was slight anger and something accusing in her eyes as she moved to him, but a second later, she had wrapped her arms around him, languidly, and whispered, almost pleasingly, "Welcome home."

She was prepared to let go, he should have allowed her to, just like the way he had promised he wouldn't force himself upon her to let the wounds heal, but this time, he couldn't deny the truth anymore.

He was eager to feel her against him, she would have moved away and sat back down, gone back to doing who-knows-what, but then he was forcing her to the ground, kissing her ravenously, devouring her warmth, hearing the beating of her heart, quite ignoring her lack of response and the dullness in her eyes. Only until later, did he see the contempt in them much too late and then Athrun knew that something was wrong, but he didn't know where. She might have pushed him away when he had recalled the debt, far too early, he realised.

Truth be told, she didn't.

Suspicion filled his heart, he thought he had seen pain flicker in amber when he had told her, "I've had enough of waiting."

But when he looked, a split-second later, there was nothing.

The fact of the matter was that Cagalli was still his, Athrun knew that she was dependent on him, after he rested her against the couch she had previously been seated on, she looked at him and silently clung onto his hand, although that was the only sign of affection he would get out of her for that entire day or night to be accurate.

At a certain point, he looked at her, unable to quease the uneasiness spreading like poison in his heart, and said softly, "You're fine now."

She laughed, her laughter wasn't pleasing to his ears, there was something pained in them.

"I recovered," Cagalli said evenly, her eyes were contemptuous, definitely pride in them, "You left me alone to my own devices, you thought that I could recover."

He should have felt assured at her words, wasn't that what the doctor had assured him likewise, that if he gave her space and left her alone, she would move on eventually?

That was coming true now, but why was it so strange, why was she behaving so abruptly and hatefully?

Bewildered, Athrun gazed in silence at her, she was playing with the ends of the sash she had retied herself, as if the previous one had displeased her and needed to be redone. She did it angrily, flopping it back and forth, punishing it, her movements jerky, her breathing now ragged.

He raised a hand to his hip, his shirt-tails hanging untidly out, but he didn't bother re-tucking them in.

"What's the matter now?" He asked bluntly.

She drew in a sharp breath, almost like he had struck her, but then she looked at him with eyes that betrayed nothing, and said quietly, "Nothing. Nothing at all."

'If you say so,' Athrun might have said, but he sensed that his silence was less akward than an answer like that. It was truly perculiar. She had healed, without his help, that had been painful for him, but then he had done what he had needed to do, and she had done what she had to do to heal. Weren't things supposed to go back to what it had been like in the past?

"I suppose you've planned something to work on, extra time, for tomorrow," Cagalli spoke, her voice was cold.

He had been planning to return to the camp tomorrow, similar to all the other weekends to stay away from her, give her the space she needed. She had never requested that he stay with her, and that had hurt more than staying away from her itself.

"I did," Athrun admitted steadily, "I suppose I can do away with those plans now."

"Don't," Cagalli cut in sharply, "Do what you've been doing, it's fine, I don't want to hinder you in any way."

His nerves were rattled, but he stared at her, his gaze level, even.

"Why are you behaving like this?" he inquired coolly, although he might have preferred to demand why instead. His eyes lingered over her neck, it was distracting him, but her voice was directed sharply at him, so accusing that it cut off other thoughts.

"Don't ask pointless questions," Cagalli stated jerkily, "It doesn't contibute towards anything that is becoming of you."

She got up unsteadily, and straightened herself with a sort of macabre grace he had never witnessed in her before. And without another glance, she simply stalked out of the room, leaving him alone, silent in the room.

He wondered if his decision had cost him more harm than good that it did her. And he wondered if he had opened Pandora's Box, he wondered if it was all a dream he was having, and when he could wake up and breathe properly without the water filling his lungs, when all the suffering would come to cease.


	16. Chapter 16

Disclaimer: I don't own GS/GSD.

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Chapter 16

The office was quiet, simply because he wasn't typing. If he had been, then the whirring of the cogs somewhere in the machines and the sound of the contact his fingers made with the keys might have distracted him from his thoughts.

And that would have been the easy wasy out. Getting himself distracted so the situation present before him would never appear to be present in the first place.

But it was too dangerous, too dangerous recently, and Athrun couldn't afford it any longer. The full effects of the past half-year seemed to warp and twists themselves, arranging themselves securely onto his back, until he had to breathe heavily and lean back into his seat to find some release or respite, either of which, today, seemed to be sorely lacking.

In the end, he had still come back here.

Perhaps it had been the cold shoulder she had turned to him, and perhaps it had been neccessary, but perhaps it was escapism, frankly, Athrun didn't know. Perhaps he didn't want to know.

When he had left in the morning, he had tried to check on Cagalli, but she had locked the door. He wondered if she had been awake when he had knocked gently once and tried to turn the door open but found it locked.

That had stung, almost as if she had dealt him a blow across his cheek with her not-so-insubstantial strength. Of course, Athrun, reasoned quietly, that would have been normal, he had been sleeping in another room after the trauma she had gone through, perhaps she had locked the door to the room as a sort of cultivated habit. She hadn't protested, perhaps she had been too traumatised and numbed when he had first brought her back to the house, she had been an empty shell then, naturally and most likely, Cagalli would have encountered difficulty expressing anything to him.

But then, something reminded him insistently, that had been nearly a year ago, she was supposed to have gotten past all that.

Once, he had caught her drinking, and he had prevented himself from saying anything, because she had recovered, physically, from the miscarriage, and he knew people drank to get drunk, and got drunk to forget. He hadn't joined her; he had simply kept mum and heard her sobbing brokenly to herself in her room. But that was fine. If she wanted an outlet for the pain, she'd get one.

So the days had continued with the lack of contact, communication, and now, Athrun wondered if it had been his fault for it all.

And when he got home, the silence worsened.

It was difficult to be able to not think.

And the sound of silence was more nauseating than ever.

'An oxymoron,' Athrun thought irritably, staring at Cagalli, who was silently ignoring him, her fingers flying furiously over the keyboard as she worked.

"Do you want to go somewhere tonight?" He asked, more mildly than he really felt.

She didn't even bother glancing up to acknowledge him. "No, thank you."

He felt irrationally irritable, although he had his own justified cause deep within. She hadn't spoken more than a few sentences to him, each day, throughout the months that had passed, and he could sense something terrible worsening. He was trying to bring her back, but she wasn't letting him.

But Athrun tried again. "It's fine. Are you rushing to meet a deadline?"

She paused, her fingers stationary in the air. "No."

Then she continued, her face a little cast down but with that grim pride he had seen, more than a few times in the months she had shown herself to be changed in. And he felt as if something had stretched and snapped in him, and he raised his voice slightly.

"What's wrong?"

She pressed a few keys and stood to leave; although her eyes had darkened and he had seen her lips quiver a second ago. But she pushed past him, quite listlessly, and managed to say in a hollow voice, "I'm fine."

"You aren't," he insisted desperately, pulling her wrists to him, "Tell me. Speak to me. Anything."

"You're not rushing to meet a deadline, are you?" She mimicked suddenly, pushing with a surprising force to free herself, and his eyes widened at the implications of her words, although his grip was still strong.

"No. What do you mean by that?"

She looked up very suddenly and glared into his face. He saw his reflection in amber, and likewise, she saw herself projected in emerald.

"It's been a year, Athrun. I was wondering when you would be available enough to speak to me. I know that you were as traumatised as I was after the miscarriage-"

She calmly watched him flinch, and continued blithely, "And I knew you left me alone because you were wounded yourself. In case you haven't noticed, I'm tired of waiting for a miracle. This was a mistake from the start, wasn't it? We haven't had quarrels after the loss, but sometimes I think that would have been more normal than the unnatural silence in this house that has been left for a year."

"Look," He said impatiently, "That was in the past, stop recalling all the unpleasant things and move on. If you wanted to talk about it, you should have said something earlier. A year's been sufficient time, you-"

"You don't understand, do you? I don't want to be anywhere near you anymore," She interrupted tiredly; "Don't you understand that we've fallen out of feelings?"

She took a deep breath, and he noticed the pain in her face.

'Then don't continue,' he cried to himself, 'Don't say anymore.'

"A year and a half's gone by without us really speaking to each other, "she said tiredly, "And life's gone on perfectly fine, at least for me, it's gone on fine. Truth be told, I've gotten used to all of the silence, and it's obvious that we don't really need to- need each other as much as we- thought we might have."

She looked at the floor and her voice trembled a little.

And he felt as if she had punched him in the gut with all the strength he and she combined would ever have. But the pride in her face and eyes, the look of her trying not to be wounded even though she had clearly been, because of him, riled an anger and sorrow in his veins.

'Don't say it,' his mind pleaded, 'Don't say it.'

He wondered for a brief second, if his thoughts had manifested upon his face, because the grim pride in her face faltered for a second and she looked confused, bewildered even, and she opened her mouth to say something but closed it foolishly and looked like a lost child.

"Tonight," he promised, still gripping her wrists and looking at her, "You will come with me."

"No," She protested, "I don't want to go."

"You will," he said, now coldly, "but you will for my sake and yours. Now go."

He let go of her and she stumbled a little, and he was glad in a warped sense, to see the anger of being ordered against her will blossom throughout her features. Better anger than numbed silence. She strode out and didn't slam the door- she had become too much a grown-up for that, and he suddenly wondered if she had been correct. That they were a mistake of some unintelligible nature.

As they sat in the restaurant, filled with important people whom Athrun recognised, or at least, some of them, he periodically stole glances at Cagalli. She had retreated into her sullen mode again and held her tongue so insistently that he had been very rarely inclined to make an attempt at conversation. But logically, he thought with a sigh, with the way he had just ordered her about, it would have been tackling a tiger with a wooden twig for a weapon.

She looked very pretty, although he had been slightly irritated at her choice of colour. Black flattered her coloring immensely, that he understood, and in a restaurant like this where the important literati of the day met regularly, it was not intelligent to make an overbearing statement with overstated colours. But black- he did not appreciate her attempt to irritate him with the colour he had told her he disliked once. Her neck was bare although the ring was present on her finger- for public appearances, he supposed. But he knew, very clearly, and very consciously, that she hadn't been wearing it for a long time.

And the presence of the ring on her finger meant less than the absence of the string around her neck.

"Anything else, sir?" the waiter asked sanctimoniously.

"No," he forced out courteously, but thought sardonically, 'I'd like a miracle too.'

"Wait," Cagalli said suddenly, "I want a change of seats to the centre, not the corner we are at presently."

They both stared at her. He was famous for his dislike of overt attention, and always requested for cosy corners where eyes could not pry their privacy away, and Cagalli had understood this, welcomed it even, but now-

Feeling incredibly angered but helpless in his frustration he nodded to show his assent and an instant later, they were guided from the dimmer, less harsh lights, into the centre of the large hall where eyes turned to look at them. She ignored these and sat down gracefully, and he nodded to show his acknowledgement of the other diners and ignored them even after they had returned the gesture.

The lights thankfully, were dimmed somewhat at another person's request, and soft music from a quartet began to play as a few couples stood up and guided themselves to the floor to dance, but all this mollified Athrun very little.

He ate in silence, and so did she. The privacy had been broken and he had lost his chance to speak privately to her, all her doing.

"How's the dinner?" He asked once.

"You're having the same one; I suppose you'd know better than me."

She looked darkly at him and drank from her goblet.

"Generally," Athrun retorted tightly, using the knife with more force than usual, "When a person asks if the meal is pleasing when he's having the same one, it means he bothers enough to ask for the other person's opinion."

She glowered at him again.

"Don't let's be childish," He said in a hushed voice, "We can talk through this like grown-ups."

Her eyes turned derisive and she flinched involuntarily, but he was too wounded and too proud to care. And so was she.

"I'm going home," she said abruptly, "I need to finish something."

"No you don't," Athrun warned softly, putting his knife down nevertheless, "You're just putting yourself against me, aren't you?"

She looked astounded, and then her eyes narrowed, "You're not worth talking to."

And she laid an angry, shaking hand against her bag and looked ready to rise, but he stopped her with a steady hand on her shaking one.

"You won't go yet," He said poisonously, "Not yet."

And he stood up, grasped her hand, and pulled her to the floor. The minute he led her into his arms, he felt something shatter in his chest as he looked at her eyes, suspicious and hateful. Those around them, in the now dim light as the soft music played, waltzed on, they did not notice the tension as he forced her into an initially ungainly step and gradually, a more relaxed one, although she held his shoulders gingerly still. He wondered if he would be able to atone for the mistake, and if he could persuade her to listen. And he stole a glance at her, she was staring at a spot behind him, and her eyes were nervous and she was biting her lip. A sense of frustration rose in him, and it was all he could do to keep from going insane by simply continuing to hold her.

"I want to go home after this," She said helplessly, in a sort of hushed whisper, a mixture of half-longing and shame, "I don't want to be here."

"Because of me?" He said softly, his breath tickling her ear, pressing her closer, an unspoken promise of sorts that he prayed she would accept. But-

She hesitated, and her thoughts spun like cotton. A shiver lightly traveled upwards, but she remembered then, the silence in the house, she, alone, sitting quietly, trying not to cry, and trying to be strong. And he would come back and give her a wan smile and she would try to say something and he wouldn't bother listening and tried not to see the pain in her eyes. She had gotten past all that- she didn't want to risk that again. But would she risk telling him now?

Then she looked at him fearlessly for a second.

"Yes," she said simply.

His breath hitched up this throat and he let go of her like he had touched a poisonous spider. She stumbled back a little, and with something like fear in her eyes, she half-ran to the table, took her things, and fled, ignoring the attendant who called out to her.


	17. Chapter 17

Disclaimer: I do not own GS/GSD. R&R please.

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Chapter 17 

If only the floor would stop spinning, she would walk. But for now, Cagalli waited for the world to stop irritating her, waiting for the pain in her head and in her ears to subside, praying for the ache in her chest to dissipate.

"Work tomorrow," she slurred, "I- I hate you, Athrun."

Then she laughed childishly and cried a little.

He wouldn't come home tonight, she expected. Not after she had treated him the way she had, barely hours ago. And the look on his face had been terrible, no anger or hatred, but just a bitter brokenness. And she had been too proud to forgive him.

But that was so like Athrun- kind-natured, somewhat awkward in his inability to emote, and his disability to understand why women like her needed him the way she did. He had tried, in his own clumsy but sincere way, to make her stand up and fight against the odds, and she had attempted to tell him that it hurt more, but he never understood. And then it had worsened with time, until she had grown too tired, was too tired, to try and keep it intact any longer.

It had been on one of those nights, how long ago she could not remember well, but that night had been like this one, empty house, damned silence, pain in the head, ache in the heart, girlish giggles, floor spinning, glass empty, when she had decided that enough was enough. She didn't want to be near him anymore- it was too painful.

She had tried to avoid Athrun, he had let her, she thought miserably. And he hadn't noticed until recently, that the silence was becoming too accentuated and too obvious, but that had been only for him. 'Him again,' She thought brokenly. He never understood until he felt the effect for himself. And it was no wonder then that it was becoming easier to step across the boundary of love and hatred, because the line was a very fine one in the first place, and the pain made it easier anyway.

"I hate you, you idiot, you stupid-," She trailed off into some unsavory terms and feeling incredibly light-headed but broken inside, she laughed and reached for the glass, but it evaded her. She cursed loudly and tried again, stretching over the counter, her hair tumbling across the top half of her back, she had let it grow long, now it was clearly over her shoulders rather than the initial, signature length of the golden strands teasing the shoulders.

She was still in the black dress, a dress she had put on to spite him in some childish way that she could, her pride allowing the anger to be channeled and directed to him. When she had flagged a taxi and tried in desperation, to recollect whatever sense that remained, she had tripped over something and fell, ripping the hem of the black chiffon and tearing the skin of her knee. She had gone home and washed it in water, wincing slightly at the sting of water on open blood and injured flesh. But she hadn't bothered dot change out of the ruined dress. Besides, when she had worn it, all he had done was to give her a half-glance and look away, and then she had felt as if he had stabbed her. "All the better," she had tried to tell herself, she needed to be distanced from him, but the thought of it seemed hollow now.

And the way he had held her as he had forced her to dance with him had been painful too. He had been insistent in that firm but not entirely forceful way as she had been captured in his arms in the sepia light just hours ago, and it might have been so easy to forgive him and lay her head upon his chest and to forget. But she didn't want to and had spurned him in the moment when the blood had rushed to her head and added a fire to her pride.

She made a last-ditch attempt to get a hold onto the glass, her fingertips magically sending out force fields that made the glass spin beyond and slightly above them, and she sobbed.

"I hate you, you bastard, you imbecile, you stupid-,"

The glass was still slightly further away than her reach, but then her eyes refocused and her heart plummeted to the ground.

"Ran out of insults already?"

Against her better instincts, she looked up and glared at her husband. He was standing above her with no expression or emotion on his face, he was always like that, able to mask his feelings so well, damn him, able to not feel when she had to fight to keep in control. He had come home.

"Give it back."

He merely looked down at her, towering above a pitiful wreck who was flailing for the glass, and his eyes were taunting.

"No."

She lost it then, and sprang out of the chair to execute an action of violent nature, but the floor betrayed her and tilted itself, making her stumble and fall, but he caught her first, before the floor could hit her. She was nestled in his arms in a matter of mere seconds, and found herself abruptly soaking in the sensation and his masculine aftershave. She muttered something that was a combination of a curse and something else, and tried to open her eyes but found she could not.

"If only you'd stop spinning," she sighed, "I'd hit you."

She was suddenly aware then, that he was lifting her tattered hem high above, and across her thigh, and her eyes pulled open and she half-shrieked at his would-be assault, kicking furiously and thrashing about.

It was lucky then, that he had set the glass somewhere and had both hands to restrain the wild, biting animal in his arms. He vaguely noticed her hitting his chest with weak punches in her daze, and he seized the opportunity to kiss her fiercely, almost possessively even. But her eyes widened and she thrashed more vigorously and more wildly than ever.

"Hold still," he snarled, fighting to contain Cagalli, "You're making a mess, and what the hell went on with your leg?"

They both stared at the bloody gash running down, and he muttered an oath or two and ran his fingers gently around the wound itself to test the depth of injury. By this time, the floor had stopped spinning, and she was firmly planted to match the crossed-leg seating stance Athrun had assumed, a leg of hers wrapped around him for him to better view the wound. She squirmed in discomfort, not so much at the pain the wound caused, but at the contact they made. A look of hurt flashed in his eyes, but she was too drunk to see or even notice, and he was too proud to tell her.

A calming sensation worked its way up her back, and she realized in the haze her mind was, that he was stroking her back the way he might have comforted a startled pet, neatening her rather uncharacteristically long hair, putting stray strands behind the tips of her ears, and still holding her quietly, slowly pressing something wet and stinging to her knee, and he hushed her when she let out little muffled cries of pain, clutching him involuntarily, and he holding her still without saying anything, just doing what he did, very like Athrun.

And why did she hate him so?

She tried to remember, but she was far too languid and lazy to recall, what with him holding her and his lips traveling near her throat, around her ears and cheeks, and the pain in her head and stab in her heart. And her knee was now a dull throbbing mass. But she knew she couldn't forgive him, because she couldn't afford to be any more wounded than she already was. And staying like this would break her down so much more, until she would loose all hope of recovery. And Cagalli didn't want to risk that.

"Too painful," she half-sighed, still arching her neck and welcoming his touch, "I want to give up."

He was too occupied to notice what she was rambling on about, and too lost to begin to desire to find out. But she regained the better side of her consciousness as fate might have offered it, and she gradually started to resist more and more, pushing and shoving.

"What now?" He asked irritably, trying to restrain her for the second or third time that night, depending how one saw the way he had made her dance with him.

"Let go," she insisted, "I want to get away."

He wondered what the heck she was talking about but decided that it was the influence of the alcohol, and decided there and then, that he'd play along with her.

"I won't let you," Athrun replied seriously, running a hand through her golden mane, wondering why she had let it grow so long, something so unlike her. No that she wasn't attractive that way, it was just not something he had gotten used to, especially, he thought guiltily, if he hadn't seen her very often in the past one and a half year.

"You don't have a say," She rambled on, clutching at him like a child, "I say I want out and that's that."

She laughed brokenly and let out a dry sob.

"Why, Athrun?" Cagalli sobbed, "Why'd you have to go and be the idiot you are?"

He had a better idea of what she was trotting about now, and in spite of the reservations he he'd of trying to reason with a drunken Cagalli, he sighed wearily and held her, "I couldn't trust my own judgment at that time. It was a mistake."

"No it wasn't, "she forced back, still in a queer stupor that only came from alcohol, he knew her well enough to forward a suggestion that insanity for her came from wine bottle, "It wasn't, don't you see? Nothing's a mistake, but we're the mistake."

"Don't say rubbish like that," Athrun said forcefully, still half-wondering if he was making sense to her in the state they were both in, "You shouldn't say things like that."

"Don't tell me what I can or can't say, or do," Cagalli rasped fiercely, her head still resting against his chest, but mostly because he had forced her to stay that way, "I won't listen."

"You must and you will," he said firmly, not quite caring if she would wake up to remember the conversation they were currently holding, or what could be called of a conversation a sober man was trying to hold with a drunken but very stubborn and achingly beautiful woman like her, "I won't let you go like this, or carry on like this."

"Bastard," she managed, "You're always correct aren't you? No space to make error, no need for apologies, just you and your judgment, you and bloody Infinite Justice, you and your ideals."

She forced herself upright from the former position of being held against him and glared into his face, but two tears forced and leaked their way out of her amber eyes.

"You'll regret what you said sooner or later," he promised her, shaken by the brokenness in her eyes and the way she was looking at him without really looking at him, "Sooner or later."

"Wrong again, Athrun," she said tiredly, slurring her words together, "It's neither of the above. The answer is, never."

She leaned across him and managed to stand in a tattered black dress and reddened heels that had encountered the friction of the high-heeled shoes she had forced her feet into. He silently watched her hobble from the room, knowing fully well that if it was Cagalli, the lack of ability to stand properly and think properly would still not deter her from reaching her bedroom.

And he didn't have to be a psychic to know that she would lock it and cry herself to sleep.

When he awoke, he was sleeping on the couch in the living room, and the vague recollection of stumbling there and half-collapsing made him feel drained all over again. The sun was shining into his face, and with a curse, he sat up rather violently, thinking he was late for work, only to remember that it was a Saturday. And he remembered Cagalli.

It was only then, that he noticed that she was sitting in the opposite chair and staring at him, in a fresh change of clothes that managed to transform her from a completely different person as compared to the wreck she had been the night before.

Which reminded him- he hadn't changed out yet. And the liquor was still present on him, mostly her doing and his decision to kiss her last night. He glanced at her and wondered why she hadn't woken him up, but then he remembered that they weren't exactly on good talking terms at the present.

"Morning," he managed awkwardly, not having the audacity to call it good.

She returned his greeting with a rather wan smile, fiddling with the ends of her hair and staring at it in a strange mixture of wonder, as if she hadn't noticed it had been so long. And truth be told, she probably hadn't and neither had he until last night.

"I was drunk wasn't I," she said rather clumsily, "I think I probably caused quite a bit of inconvenience, sorry for that."

"Forget it," he said hastily, eager for the conversation to keep flowing, anything better than wretched silence and tension amidst them, "It was an excellent opportunity to speak to you when you weren't capable of biting back."

They proceeded to share a wry smile which made his heart flutter madly, and he did not notice, or more accurately, tried not to notice the reluctance she returned it with.

"Did you hear what we said last night," he asked a bit shyly, still seating and laying don wont he couch and gazing at her as she sat across in her own chair, "I think-"

"I did," she interrupted quickly, "But I don't- remember much of it, just that-"

"No matter," he returned immediately, "You don't have to remember. It was nothing, just-,"

"No," she said softly, "It was everything. L-look, I think we've gotten to a stage where it's too late, I don't see how things can ever return to the way they used to be."

She paused, and he felt as if his heart was going to stop, and his expression froze.

"It's better if we just leave it at this, it's better to just leave it before it gets worse, at least now, we have better memories of each other, and that's all that matters now, and-"

She was rambling, finding it more difficult to stop than continue, but he felt as if the air around him had become very thin and very cold. She wasn't looking at him any longer, she seemed to be speaking to the floor and addressing it directly instead of him, and he wanted to bellow and cry out and shatter something or shake her and make both of them wake up from the awful labyrinth they were in.

But he remained frozen.

She looked pitifully at him, "I prepared this a few months ago, but I never knew how to bring it up. It's my fault for not saying so earlier, but at least we could sort out a few things before it had to come to this. The papers, it's best if you take them."

The hand she held out to him with the earth-brown folder, securely tied with white string, was shaking.

He remained rooted where he was, staring but not seeing, and the rush in his ears nearly made him insane. It was unbelievable.

"You don't mean this as some kind of cruel joke, do you?" He asked, and he was ashamed to find his voice unsteady.

"No," she said miserably, "We have to do this."

He got up, more steadily than he really thought he was capable of managing, and found his hand holding the same folder, both of them, touching the same folder, just for a single moment when their eyes met, before her hand dropped to her side, almost lifeless, and he was dashing out with only a coat and the few personal articles he had at that instant, out of the house.

The last he could recall, she had slumped in her chair across where he had previously sat, looking at the place he had previously occupied, with wet cheeks and trembling hands.


	18. Chapter 18

Disclaimer: I don't own GS/GSD.R&R please.

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Chapter 18 

The footsteps in the room were irritating her, couldn't they just cut her some slack?

"Cagalli."

All she wanted was to be where she was, learning things by tasting and trying them for herself, perhaps sneaking out of the Atha Mansion for a few hours to roam in streets and enjoy the cities for herself, and maybe learn new maneuvering techniques here and there, while she still had time, but, oh the war was on them. And she'd watched Heliopolis being destroyed, and then she'd fled to the Desert Dawn and she wanted to be there, fighting with them, and now she was just taking a break, why'd these people have to come and take her away and see her struggle to be-

"Wake up," Kisaka said urgently, "The meeting starts in half an hour."

Stunned, she sat up and gasped for air. The sand faded away, as so did Ahmed's voice, he had been telling her excitedly about the refined oil that they had found to make the vehicles travel faster, and the sand, it was shifting, and it formed the room she had been working in- her office.

Her cheeks were still a little wet, but he pretended not to notice. He knew her far too well to know that getting information she did not want to give was more difficult than making stone juice. But his heart still ached for her.

When had he met her? When she was seven? No. Even earlier.

And Kisaka studied the woman before him, realising, not for the first time, that the child he had lovingly followed and taught, a sort of pupil of his own when it came to weaponry and combat, that sort of thing, was no longer his beloved pet. She looked up at him and desperately swept some strands from her eyes, and he saw, with a pang, that her eyes were shadowed and her lips were pale. More pale than what it had been a year and a half ago. She had admitted to being overworked, more agreeably than he had thought when he had accused it, but Kisaka was no fool. If she was being overworked, and only truly overworked, she would have vehemently insisted otherwise.

There was certainly more to it, and he could have found out if he wanted to, lord, he was tempted to half the time, but he respected Cagalli's decision to remain mum, and asked no questions. She told no lies either. She admitted to half-truths instead.

Her clothes were badly crumpled, and she looked in dire need of straightening. The image of a child, muddied and bruised, but laughing and presenting freshly picked apples to him somehow lodged itself in his mind, only she wasn't laughing now and the redness in her cheeks had been transferred to her eyes. Straightening. The problem was, where would they begin?

The plans were formulating in his head, he'd get Rainie to arrange for a stylist to come in and lather her with cosmetics to hide the dark circles and weariness in her face, and in the meantime, he would force her to take a warm bath and arrange for a new suit to be sent over. That would do, at the minimum.

"Listen," she muttered, looking dazed but somehow guilty, "Sorry about dozing off, I thought I could just take a bit of a break and-"

"No matter," Kisaka interrupted, flashing her a slightly forced smile in his attempt to make things seem more simple than they really were, "You're tired, but you can freshen up with a bath, I'll make the arrangements, and we'll be on our way to the conference before you know it."

She nodded once, too tired to say anything, and stood up, a bit unsteadily in her slightly drowsy state, and limped out of the room.

He tried not to watch her, but the pain of seeing Cagalli and not knowing what she was experiencing made him tired, drained, if not.

He had been brought into the service, directly under Uzumi Nara Atha, but he hadn't expected his bodyguard and combat skills to be utilised or required by a- well, child. A troublesome, spiteful child, no doubt, he had privately witness her kick another royal family's scion in a fit of rage once, and even if the little wildcat had her reasons, a temper-tantrum warranted some punishment at least. But nobody ever dealt it because she didn't tell anyone anything, and neither did the elder boy, now, what was his name?

Yes, Yuuna Roma Seiran was certainly intimidated by Cagalli Yula Atha.

And at that time, Kisaka had decided that nobody, not least a child, royal or not, bull-headed or not, insane temper or not, would intimidate him. But she hadn't tried, heavens no, she had stood silently behind the towering, well, at least for that time, Lord Uzumi, and looked a bit shy at the new bodyguard. Quite a flip over from what Kisaka had expected in fact, and he found himself, likewise, peering at the child who was gazing at him and his height with awe in her amber eyes.

"My daughter, Cagalli," Uzumi instructed benevolently, "And you will do well to greet my new helper, Cagalli."

She paused and peeped from behind her father, and he noticed for the first time, that his master's daughter was a very pretty child, large amber eyes, a bit cat-shaped but still attractive, and full roses for cheeks, although she had the clear indications of what they called a tomboy. Her dress was slightly gathered at the side and secured with a safety pin to reveal shorts underneath, perhaps to facilitate her tree-climbing, but still, he thought, allowing himself to frown a litttle, how unbecoming. And her hair looked like it needed a bulldozer to be neatened, although she set it right within minutes after a timely frown and reminder from Lord Uzumi that had made her glower.

She was going to be a handful, Kisaka noted stiffly to himself. But as long as she didn't play the part of a spoiled princess too much, he would tolerate his- side duties.

On one day, he caught her jabbing her finger angrily at the Seiran's boy, no, Scion, these titles had to be observed. And he hauled the kicking, biting girl off the much taller and older, but regretfully petrified Lord Yuuna, and then Kisaka motioned quickly for the boy to get going before he could release the wildcat he was restraining in his arms.

A few seconds and three deep scratches later, he let go and she directed her full wrath on him, and he, a man hardened from years of guerilla warfare and animal instinct, met a child, 'a tempest child', Kisaka thought helplessly, watching her scream that she'd have successfully grilled Yuuna if he hadn't arrived and made a complete nuisance of himself.

"Why do you treat him so?" Kisaka asked interestedly, nursing a slight wound at where the girl had made her mark.

She glowered at him, the way Moses would have at the Israelites' golden calf. "He asked me to marry him."

Raising his eyebrows slightly, Kisaka questioned, "Isn't that good? Other than the fact that you're five and he's about seven? Six?"

He fought hard to not choke on his laughter, but the image of a muddied, spitting girl holding a bouquet of white roses was too precious to let go of. And the boy, why, what a pansy! He had ran right after Kisaka had held the girl back, little incentive to stay behind to sort things out.

She looked livid, and he felt slightly impressed at her ability to be so charming while she skewered some leaves on a branch and waved it furiously in the air like a sort of sword.

Then she stamped on it and hollered, "He thinks he's everything!"

No further elaboration needed, Kisaka thought morosely, this child hated nincompoops and hypocrites, buffons, all that he had thought of the Seirans, even while he watced her father tolerate their airs and put up with their graces even without a proper incentive to. She was unlike her father in that way, she tolerated nothing that she disliked, although her youth and her childishness was the excuse that would forcibly be removed when she grew up.

He was suddenly aware that Cagalli was half-shouting in his face.

"Kisaka!" She demanded impatiently, "I've been calling you for the last three minutes!"

Startled, he redirected his attention from the space on the desk he had been sitting at, and gazed at Cagalli. She smelt of scented soap and her hair was still slightly damp, curling shyly at their golden ends, which he noticed, were considerably longer than her usual length.

"Perhaps I'm growing old, forgive me Princess," he said regretfully, standing up to study her.

"Don't call me that," she said automatically, but she warranted a smile that made him consider canceling the appointment with the stylist. And then a thought struck his mind, how long had it been since-?

"When you appear on the airways tonight," he reminded her tactfully, "I'm sure Athrun will be watching in camp."

She nodded, cheerfully, pausing to look at some papers, but there was something unsettled in his eyes, he could see that at least, changed as she was, "He's busy in PLANT, he's been for the past four months anyway, but I think he'll make time for the footage when it's shown on the news, it's his job to keep current with the new agenda for politics and all."

Not knowing what to make of it, the normality, the abnormal weariness that dragged her down, or perhaps it was really overwork?

'Where was Athrun anyway?' Kisaka wondered silently. Cagalli had mentioned that he would be serving in PLANT for a while to clear up some matters in the headquaters of ZAFT, but he hadn't expected the trip to be so- long. And perhaps that was taking a toll on Cagalli, she probably missed him. And Kisaka was ashamed to feel slightly jealous that the young girl he had carried on his back as she whooped and cheered, a rebellious glint in her eyes at doing something so ruffian-like, was already another person's to keep.

"When will he be back?" he started to ask, but she was already gathering her things and moving off.

So he paused, and she half-turned to face the door. "I'll meet Rainie now; I'll tell you when I'm ready."

And Kisaka nodded, wondering what to make of it all. She was a grown-up now, twenty-five and very capable, but it was difficult to let go because she was still his daughter. At least to him, at least for all the years he had spent watching her grow up and fight the battles that had made her grow up and the tears she had spilt over her lost father and the wounds she had carried as proof of her transition into adulthood. And yet-

"Kisaka!" the child had cried, "Don't tell my father- he'd never understand!"

"Understand what, Princess?" Kisaka demanded tightly, "That you threatened to hit young Lord Seiran if he didn't tell you about your mother?"

"I had to, you understand? I had to," the ten year old Cagalli pleaded, clutching urgently on his toughened, brown arm," I heard some people in school saying things and I want to confirm it's not true!"

Lord Uzumi and why, even he, a bodyguard, had feared that. They had discussed it quietly, privately, but her pleas to attend a normal school had struck them as being reasonable at very least. And Kisaka was no doubt certain that Lord Uzumi must have considered the things they would begin to say about the girl, but they had certainly prayed for it to be later rather than sooner.

So their time was up, wasn't it?

She looked so woebegone that he was obliged to kneel down and look at her in her eyes. Her uniform was untidy, the blouse crumpled and grey with constant muddying and rewashing, and her skirt torn from her tree-climbing. How like Cagalli, he thought amusedly, in spite of himself. Her hair was still the beautiful shade of honey and sunlight, but her lips were trembling and she looked defiant as a tear or two slid unobediently, out of her eyes. He sighed and wiped them away.

"If you really want to know," he paused; she was looking at him, rapt with attention, "You won't ask anybody but your father. If you are ready, that is."

She forgot her tears and flung her arms around him, and he slowly returned her eager embrace, wondering if bodyguards had some rule about not hugging their young, headstrong employers, "I am! I am! I'm ready!"

"I'm ready," Cagalli said slowly, "Are you, Kisaka?"

And she stood before him, regal with her hair pushed and held back, her suit traded for a uniform with matching skirt, all that was customary for ORB's Supreme Commander, and her lips stained berry red to hide their pallor that he had observed in the last few months or so.  
He straightened up and studied her, she looked significantly less tired but the little signs, the age in her eyes, the pride she carried herself with, coupled with the shadow of ease that was nearly gone, and the stiff shoulders, he-

"I am," he said, albeit reluctantly, offering his hand which she took without question, as she had when a child, as she did as a woman, "Come, the leaders are waiting."

He watched as she attacked the discussion with careful aggressiveness and more than a measure of good tact. At a certain point, she got on her feet and fought for her case, almost as if her life depended on it, and Kisaka watched the cold determination build in her face while she spoke. Perhaps, in a strange way, her life did depend on it. And when he passed her water during the interval of rest, she took it with a breathless word of thanks, and drank thirstily.

He studied her, and said slowly, "Are you alright?"

"I am," she said dazedly, "They're being really hard-fisted today, these EA people, won't hear of this, won't think of trying that, they don't-"

She trailed off, looking exhausted, but then she looked smilingly at Kisaka. "It's fine, it'll be over soon, I think they're going to take my words for it, so we'll see how it turns out."

So she had grown up.

And as he sent her back to the mansion, he reminded her, softly, to keep in contact with Athrun. He watched carefully, she showed no sign of surprise at his words, only sighed a bit and shook her head, remarking, "What would I do without you, Kisaka?"

A rueful grin spread over his face, perhaps he had been mistaken. She was overworked, poor child. He would send Rainie over to make sure Cagalli was looking after herself properly, just in case Athrun returned home and got on Kisaka's case. That would have been so like him, so serious and tender with Cagalli, so perhaps this was just a passing phase and-

She smiled blissfully and promised she would call Athrun that very night; they were planning to see Kira and Lacus as soon as she could get over to PLANT for a trip or two.

"I can arrange one," Kisaka said immediately, standing up from the car abruptly, but her eyes widened and she hastily reminded him of the upcoming season of conferences PLANT and ORB would go through for the political scene. And regretfully, she watched him drive off as he left with a sigh as well. Work was such a chore.

"Actually," he muttered, watching the person in the review mirror wave and become smaller and smaller as the distance between the house and the car increased, "It's just watching the Lord Atha's daughter going through it that's the real pain. And where's Athrun Zala when you need him to tell her to stop working so damn hard?"

She stood at the stone steps, waving cheerily at the retreating car. And then she turned around and turned the key in the door, clearing check after check, wondering why it was becoming so dark so fast. It was only evening, and she wanted to sit in the garden, but with the impending night, there was no point at all.

Her feet dragged her in and up the stairs, her jacket was flung over the chair, and she flipped on the lights and stared blindly at the spickspan, impeccably neatened house. So the part-time housekeeper had been in to clear the clutter and months of accumulated, miscellaneous things.

Her reflection in the vanity was too painful to observe, so she made a roundabout diversion from the halls to the other staircase to get to her room. The lights were too bright, she thought dully. The chandeliers were too brilliant for their own good; she wanted to smash them to hear their damaged cry and the melody of shattered glass. But she refrained, her sanity was intact.

She opened her wardrobe and studied the clothes inside for a minute. Just her clothes, she had sent the rest to where he was in PLANT, and she had checked with Kira. Athrun was living in an old apartment he had owned, just briefly for a period of time, after the Second War, perhaps slightly less than a year, and so the possibility of him leading a life in the house in December City was close to none.

At least the clothes and the other belongings would reach him.

Forcing herself to hum a tune to keep up with the normality, she selected the green silk dress she usually wore, but thought better of it and replaced it with a blue one. Normality to be damned. She ignored the churning in her stomach as she picked the orange sash up and replaced it with a sensible belt, but the prickling in her eyes refused to disappear.

So she ran, helter-skelter, down the hallway and faced the full-length mirror and stared at herself in the eye until they disappeared completely.

"You don't cry," she choked fiercely, her fingernails digging deep and angrily into her soft palms, "Don't you dare."

Her reflection glared back at her.

Only then, did Cagalli breathe properly and turn back. Just to keep herself steady, she made herself finish the work she had brought home, ate some badly-cooked dinner without really tasting it, but what did it matter anyway? She hadn't tasted anything impactful after he had left, only when she had neglected to cook the meat properly, now that had really been impactful.

She let out a short bark of miserable laughter. Strange how she always contradicted herself.

The phone was ringing, it was echoing insistently throughout the whole house, and for a whole minute, she thought it might be him, but she forced her heart not to hammer, and moved swiftly to fetch it.

It was Kira.

"How are you?" He was asking gently, "Kisaka told me he couldn't reach Athrun just yet, apparently, he was not contactable, must be at a meeting or something, but I got home and wanted to know how you were doing. He tells me you're overworking yourself, and Lacus and I are not surprised but still worried of course."

His voice was still quiet and mellow, but honestly, she hadn't expected anything else. The rather immature boy she had met, years ago while on the Archangel had long since became a man, less cheerful, but not any less happy or blessed, not with his lot in life in any case.

"Athrun didn't contact you?" she said, puzzled, hoping the tone would sound natural.

"No," Kira said calmly, "Why would he anyway? He's busy in PLANT, working on the project we all know about, and I didn't catch sight of him or Yzak Joule either, they're both involved in a separate faction of ZAFT for now, so it's not quite possible to meet up. You wanted me to speak to him about something?"

Her eyes widened, "No, just- asking."

"Oh." He sounded slightly bewildered, but still calm and placid. How like her twin.

She made herself put a smile into her voice with just the right amount of lilt. Anymore would be highly artificial.

"All fine here," she chirped, "Just a little tired, I suppose. How's Lacus? And the child?"

He launched, almost immediately, into the digression she hoped he would take. But he paused a while later, and her grip which had slackened after immediately stiffened again.

"Now I've digressed," Kira remarked, almost emotionlessly except for the slight wryness in his voice, "This was for me to call up on you, not for me to talk about other things."

"I like hearing about those," she replied hastily and brightly, "Listen, I have to sleep early tonight, I have this meeting tomorrow and-"

She trailed off and he captured the hint immediately, and Cagalli echoed his goodbyes and put down the phone more gently than she would have felt like doing.

Then she stumbled up and huddle under the bedclothes, wondering if Kira and Lacus were suspecting anything. Probably not. Hopefully not. She choked back a few tears and cursed colourfully and creatively. It wasn't her to be a helpless damsel in distress, she was the Supreme Commander of ORB, damn it!

Dealing with the aftermath would be sooner or later, she chose later. One day, when she no longer felt a need to live up to the normality, to go to work and return to the house with lies in the office, lies at home, lies in her bedroom, then she'd tell them what happened. Athrun wouldn't, that she understood about him at very least.

He had fled the house, she half-wondered if she could have handled it better, but she had done what she had, and later, she realised that he had left ORB itself. Logical deduction led her to think of PLANT, then the house she had miscarried in, but the latter turned her attention to somewhere else.

'But she was only doing this to sort the remaining things left,' she said fiercely to herself, "Nothing more."

_Nothing more._


	19. Chapter 19

Diclaimer: I own nothing of GS/GSD. R&R Please.

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Chapter 19 

The eyes were fixated on his back. God- couldn't he take one damn stroll in the park without being stared at?

It made him thankful for a bit, that he had bothered with the shades that masked nearly half his face He shivered at the sudden gush of wind and tightened the collar around his neck, trying not to be ill at ease. A man was staring and gaping, his children goggling like he was some animal in a zoo.

It was more than what Athrun could bear. He strode rather than strolled past, and headed for the clearing where there were more trees, less people, more chatter of birds than gossip of humans, and where a little deep breathing in to calm his frayed nerves would not be deemed as the arguably most recognised war hero having a hyperventilating fit.

He felt like cursing but found little energy or incentive to do so. The chirping and cheeriness of the birds were beginning to bother him, and immensely in fact. A picnicking family had left presents for the clearing and him to view, an empty bottle of reinforced glass, some plastic bags and some crumbs the sparrows were busying themselves with.

Remarkably vexed, but not with the ill considerations of those who had been here, he kicked at the ground, causing a sparrow to fly for cover on a tree until it sat, peering pitifully at Athrun, and the glass bottle to roll in a clumsy manner on the grass. Both were moved, no doubt, by his show of frustration.

A hand tugged on his coat, and he whirled around, gun in hand, covered in pocket, ready to be ready, alert to be aimed, fired to be fired-

"Er-," he managed, staring at the young child. 'For Pete's sake', he said angrily to himself, 'don't go around getting ready to shoot children! Just because you're feeling edgy living in some godforsaken apartment and manning some pending divorce from the woman you love the most does not grant you the right to shove your weapon down some girl's nose and fire away.'

She looked shyly at him, and in doing so, the shadows the branches cast over her face fled and her hat fell off, revealing golden locks, soft and silken, and eyes- amber and brown-flecked.

He flinched.

The child was startled, and her hand faltered, and only then did he notice that she held a book in her hands.

"Sorry there," the man he had seen previously called out," She wanted an autograph for her brother."

"It's fine," he called out to the approaching stranger, letting go of the weapon in his coat and forcing a wan smile at both to put them at ease, "I'll sign it."

He tried not to watch the girl's face light up and her eyes grow beautifully wide in her awe. They reminded him of-

"Where's your son, sir?" he asked politely, not looking up in case he saw another's face in the child's.

"Oh, he's not here with us, he's on vacation with his mother and some friends in, where was it now Carmillie?"

He felt his throat, dry and scratchy, even the random strangers were against him.

"United Emirates of ORB!" She bleated excitedly, having repeated the many places her sibling had travelled to. Her eyes shone with pride.

His fingers froze at the 'u', but he completed it and forced the surname in, hating every drop of ink that spelt his name.

"That's pleasant," he remarked fairly calmly, "I was there until a few months ago."

"Tough on you Chairman," the man exclaimed, "You belong in PLANT for your missions, but the missus is over there, a real hand at managing her country I must say! ORB is beautiful, just like the Princess, or whatever they call her these days, I can't imagine any other man deserving her more than you, sir."

"Your daughter is very pretty too," he overcame the discomposed feelings that were invariably settling in the base of his soul and made the young child blush while her father beamed with a shining pride.

"I hope she'll become as capable and beautiful like the Princess," the man was waxing lyrical now, how he hated watching this, "And I know how it feels to be without your missus, why, mine's been off for only a week and now I'm sore."

He looked sympathetically at Athrun and the latter was forced to reply, "Duty calls."  
'Stop it,' he pleaded silently, 'Shut up and just go.'

"Sure," the man was saying, ignoring the sight wince on Athrun's face, or perhaps not seeing it at all, not even sensing that his daughter wanted to go back already after having obtained the all-precious signature, "I know it's terrible. I've been apart from my missus for a week, but you, you've been away for, what, come again now, four months least? Or longer?"

There was a slight pause, and the man turned and looked expectantly at Athrun, making Athrun obliged to nod, although it was a bit too courteous to be anything but cold and clipped. When he spoke, his voice was light and slightly airy, but there was a flicker of pain in the emerald of his eyes that the man again, failed to notice. Perhaps the shades were coming in more useful than expected.

"Longer, sir," he said softly, and in his heart, he thought sadly, 'Much longer than you think.'

He raised his hand in a gesture of farewell and moved off. The light of the clearing flitted across his face, illuminating the tiredness in his eyes and the firmly set jaw.

When he reached home, he turned the key in the door and moved it open, revealing a single path of light that stretched from where he was, to the interior, breaking the gloom of the apartment into two, the boundary the light itself.

'Not for long,' he thought sardonically, and with a single, forceful gesture, vanquished the dark entirely with a single switch.

The blinding light immediately stunned his eyes, which were already devoid of the protection of the shades and he immediately regretted his somewhat rash gestures, pausing slight lint he doorway to dim the lights until the world seemed to be cast in slight blue and minimal sound.

The door closed with a whine, a petulant one. He kicked it for good measure, lest it jammed on him.

His secretary had complained about his constant to-and-fros to ORB and PLANT, this was no exception, but he had chosen to silence her with a well-placed glare. She had felt very disconcerted and excused herself, and he had heard no more of her whining and complaining.

"Doesn't pay to be the nice guy," he uttered to nobody in particular, reaching for a cold meal.

He was the head of ETERNITY, he couldn't afford to crumble anymore than he had when he had gotten out of the house, drove in a frenzy to a dank alley, his thoughts jumbled, his side pierced with something more than a sword of pain, his chest heavy, and the knowledge in the pit of his abdomen that he would, he should, and had to go.

It was decided a minute after. He called the secretary, made the arrangements, and in an hour, reached PLANT and unlocked the key to the old, dilapidated and unused apartment he had own briefly after the Second War. It hadn't been the wisest decision, he thought reflectively sipping the alcohol thoughtfully, but he hadn't been in the right frame of mind, had he? And besides, Athrun noted dully, what the hell could he have done? Stayed and stared stupidly at her as she fascinated herself , downcast, with his feet?

Or begged her to think of what she was saying and the implications?

Or told her as he never had, that he loved her more than his bloody life in case she had forgotten that?

Or apologised more than he already had done?

What?

She wanted out, and he had left. No more weighty problems of the matrimonial life and no more troubles from now on, he tried to say. But something jammed in his throat. He could scarcely bring himself to return home from the headquarters every night, and it was no wonder Athrun had avoided speaking to Kira. They knew nothing of this, and he prayed it would remain that way until he felt prepared enough to announce to his best friend, former brother-in-law, and not discluding the entire bloody world, that Cagalli Yula Atha's status as his was about as existent as a strand of jet hair on Yzak Joule's head.

The knocking on his door startled him out of his thoughts, and a rising irritation filled him, irrational, yes, but still present. He was aware that the neighbours next door were foolhardy college young men with many –friends.

And this was coupled with the all-essential free-minded attitudes, this Athrun knew at least. They often saw this kind of thing in ZAFT, when the weekends came and trainings were cut slack. Heck, Miguel, Rusty and countless of others were often in the thick of it. He himself-

The sounds from the apartment next door rang unrelentlessly throughout the night, dingy and unkempt, but not that his was a real gem either, and the loud crashes, often and commonly followed by the heated sighs and pants were enough to make him suspect that a drunk associate of the kids' next door had showed up on the wrong doorstep.

Ignoring it was the best option. He allowed himself to close his eyes, drowning all thought and noises out, although his imagination turned to him, lying in the darkness and emptiness of the bed, hearing, fro the other side of the thin walls, delirious, breathy, intoxicated declarations of eternal love and wanton cries. Fools, he decided contemptuously.

The knocking was still loud and impatient.

And he could ignore it no longer.

"My bed's a single one, and I'm not offering free lodging for the night!" He called contemptuously.

The knocking paused suddenly and he congratulated himself. A minute later, it continued again.

He furiously propped himself up from the couch, launched liked a torpedo onto his feet, and promptly marched over, not bothering that he was still in his work shirt and it had been half unbuttoned with the tie hanging limply and ungraciously from his neck. The beer can was still in his hands, and it was not very cold, but some ice would suffice for later. After he had chased off the annoying bugger, that is.

"I know you're home," a voice called out from behind the door.

He froze, not a very drunk voice, quite crisp, female, young-sounding, well, obviously, he thought sarcastically and continued to move forward.

"Athrun!"

His fingers twitched, a deranged fan, he hoped not. There were queer people running around, Kira once told him, lifting Leon up to show a snippet of the infant's hair that should have been there. Some woman from the papparazzi had sneaked in and taken pictures of the child and obtained a lock of chestnut hair to sell. He hoped the person on the other side, owner of the muffled voice, not drunken but still suspicious to him, would be sane enough to leave when he asked her to.

"Athrun!"

More hammering and banging. They didn't know when to give it a rest, these bastards.

And when they did decide to go sleep, they had to make sure that the rest of the world would be kept awake with their sounds.

He selected a few choice curses to hurl and prepared himself.

A few steps later, he finally reached, and feeling incredibly irate, he flung open the door and snapped, not seeing anything but the evening's skies beyond the person standing in his doorway, "Get lost if you're a whore associated with the next door neighbours, or if you're planning to sell something of mine on some bleeding website!"

There was an immediate freezing and an influx of stunned silence.

And when he glanced at who it was, his blood ran cold.

"I-," The words jammed like rocks being flushed down the milkshake straw he had seen on those ridiculous 'believe it or not' shows.

"I didn't expect that," the voice said sweetly, the owner somehow recovering from the shock of being called a whore and a lunatic, "But I assure you, I'm not an uh- associate of the next door's, and I'm not here to nick anything of yours. Lodging in the night is unnecessary; I'm a neighbour, in fact, so rest assured, I have my own single bed too, and here-,"

A flat dish of steaming pastry was raised to him, "I brought a greeting gift."

He stared, dumbfounded.

"Long time no see, Athrun," Meyrin Hawke remarked smilingly.


	20. Chapter 20

Disclaimer: I do not own GS/GSD. R&R please.

* * *

Chapter 20 

So she had grown up.

Her hair was flaming red, no longer tied in perky tails at either side of her head, but in loose waves nearing the back. Her face was slightly less round than when it had been, the full cheeks more gaunt in a newly attractive way, and her eyes made even wider in her pretty face.

If anybody had compared her elder sister to her in the past, they might have said she was 'cute' and her sister the pretty one. It still held some truth, she had men fighting to be with her precisely because her cheerleader appeal was still somewhere in her, much as she wondered where its location was, only now, she was older, wiser, and had the sometimes apparent, surprisingly sharp tongue that was frustratingly attractive rather than deterring.

And this was Meyrin Hawke.

He paused to stare at her a little, coincidence was a tool of Fate, and Irony was its best friend. Lord, so this was the worst of the worst. To be apart from the woman who had married, not him, another man, for political alliances, and then for him to be brought together with a girl who had saved his life, then he for hers, so the debt was even, and then to have her suddenly leaving. Weird.

"What can I do for you?" He said finally, not having the faintest idea how Meyrin Hawke had suddenly reappeared.

"I wasn't sure if it was really you living here, although the landlady told me that there was a new edition to our neighbourhood," she explained genially, "And I thought I saw you today, and I still wasn't sure, so I asked her who it was again, and my doubts were dispelled and, well, here I am."

She shrugged, as if going around snooping about the neighbourhood for men she had saved previously from treacherous politicians in PLANT were absolutely normal and something she did every day.

He remained silent, observing the water droplets trickle down his beer can. More ice, he told himself morosely, as soon as she decided to go.

"Athun," she asked curiously, "What are you doing here?"

"Work." He stated noncommitally. He had been telling everybody that, those who asked, so what was the difference with another person? Hell, it might have even made it more real for him.

She paused, a question her voice and a slgiht frown on her brow, and said slowly, "Cagalli?"

"ORB."

He looked into her eyes as he said this.

"First sign of telling a lie is to not look in the eye," His father had warned him once.

'Thank you, Daddy,' He thought bitterly. His mouth twisted into a softly sardonic smile, and she stared, not quite understanding what he was thinking. All the better then.

"Oh- alright." Meyrin conceded eventually, "How's it been?"  
"Good," He said calmly, "I got the woman I've wanted for all the time since I got shot down with her on some God-forsaken island, it's been nice having won her after two wars, a lot of chaos, a ruined wedding thanks to Kira and Freedom, and best yet, the period of time when all we could say to each other was, 'Greetings from PLANT or ORB', whichever."

Athrun saw the flicker of pain in the girl's eyes, she was clearly still a little hurt.

'Join the club', he thought angrily, angry at his inability to do anything, angry at his lack of courteousness when she was trying to be polite, angry at the questions she asked, angry at the answers he gave and the lies he was telling.

Of course he had been naive about her on his stay aboard the Minerva, he had thought mostly of Meyrin Hawke as an efficient, rather admittedly adorable comrade, more often known as Lunamaria-of-the-miniskirt-Hawke's sister, or so most of the boys thought. On the Archangel, after they'd nearly lost their lives in the fleeing, he'd grown a little more attached to her and had found her to be giving, shy and good-natured, and he had appreciated her company. And after the war, she had offered to help him as he headed ETERNITY, she had been thrilled at the prospects of a political promotion that he had recieved, possibly, he thought wryly, more excited than him. And then suddenly, she had just left.

Of course he had wondered why for a while, she had been so eager to stay even though he had advised her to go somewhere less stuffy and boring since she was young, well, slightly younger than him anyway, and hadn't any obligations to sorting out the mess her parent had made in the First War. But she had refused. And then she just left with only a notice to tell him that he'd found on his desk.

Oh well, he had thought, she probably got tired of the paperwork.

He hadn't know n anything much, she had never told him, her innocence had trained her to think that by just staying, by just looking at him with hope in her eyes, that he would understand. Clearly, she had been wrong and his heart had been elsewhere, if not with ETERNITY. And not her.

And really, that was the point of the matter.

When she had met Cagalli in Berlin, she had passed her the ring, but it belonged to Cagalli anyway, not her. Her friend had looked startled, but Meyrin's blessing were in her hand and the future was shining open for her, and in a strange way, for Meyrin too.

So Meyrin had watched as the months went by and interviews came and went, sometimes on television when both Athrun and Cagalli appeared in it, and she had smiled softly to herself. And then a frightful accident had occured, but Meyrin had kept very still and watched with the world as the wrongs righted themselves, and then one day, all the headlines of the magazine store she walked by every morning when she got to work screamed of a union that she had once longed to see with herself and him. But this time, she was glad, and she had sniffled a bit. Cagalli had sent her an invitation, it was very kind and thoughtful, but all the same, Meyrin didn't trust herself to go, she'd have drowned them with her tears or something.

And for the next few years, there were random articles of the couple when they travelled, that sort of thing. And Meyrin often paused to buy a newspaper and study their faces. Athrun, slightly older looking now with more maturity in his face, but it added to his handsome features and his smile. She noticed then, that he was smiling more often. And Cagalli's face was alight with happiness each time in those articles, written and taken without their consent, for she knew they were too private people to agree to that sort of thing unless they were forced to, but all the same, without a single hint of ill-intention.

They looked so very happy.

But she hadn't bore malice, it was not in her nature, and Athrun had been too much of a gentleman and unknowing that she would have wasted regret on him. And now she was here, she had caught sight of a tall, midnight-haired man striding past the sorry square of sand the compound called a sandpit for the children, which by the way, had moved out ten years ago, and she had known-

She checked with the landlady who was quite nice to her, apparently the woman thought she was a young girl of eighteen. Meyrin realised that this had some advantages, so for the past few years of living here, she had never said anything but giggled in secret and the candies and soft toys she was prone to receiving from the kindly but absent-minded landlady. And yes, she had told Meyrin that the man had recently came in to the compound, he owned an apartment permanently, and he was none other than the great war hero.

The pie she had brought was lying on the table, steaming and fragrant. He ignored it, he had little appetite.

"Tell me," Athrun muttered eventually, "Why you're here again."

She grinned, it was slightly wry, and he had never seen that side of her before, previously so young, so tenderly earnest and eager to please and befriend, and he was reminded, quite forcefully, that she was no longer sixteen, but twenty-three. How time had passed.

"Simple, really," Meyrin offered amiably, "When I left the Archangel, Lacus kindly arranged for me to live somewhere, just temporarily so I wouldn't have to impose on my sister and all. And then I had a job with you for a while, then I switched to the ZAFT spokesperson, who you probably met a while back then, and I decided not to get rid of this apartment because I liked the neighbourhood and thought I'd station myself here after returning from all the travelling and got home to PLANT. Aprilius is really congested, at least this place isn't too bad yet."

"You like the neighbourhood?" He asked incredulously, even though he was rearing to hint to her that she ought to go. But the courteous, cool mask was slid back on, he was Athrun Zala again, not some irrate man cooped in his apartment in a failed marriage.

She shrugged. "Not all blocks are like yours. There are a few in the compound, I live two blocks off in this area, and it's mostly the single civil workers who are granted their leases and apartments here, so I have a few colleagues in the same block or the compound at least."

"I hope the neighbours next doors aren't your colleagues," Athrun said tautly, his mouth pursed, and she wondered why he was being so-

So mean.

Perhaps it was just his mood of the day, she thought reasonably, you never knew what happened and it wouldn't be fair to guess anyway.

A growing comprehension and background of Athrun's neighbours had settled upon her even at the doorway as she stood waiting for him to answer the door, and now, Meyrin's face looked horrified, but then she caught onto his dry humour and laughed. For a minute, he was seeing a young, innocent girl on the Minerva, holding documents and trailing after her sister, her eyes blue and wide with earnest shyness and sweet youth.

"No," she chirped, quite nonchalant and nonplussed about the implications of him trying to chase her away previously, "Haven't been to this side of the neighbourhood until today. You could say that it didn't occur to me that there were people other than the PLANT government workers in the compound."

"No wonder you like your side of the neighbourhood then," he rasped ungratefully, but she did not catch the stray note of sarcasm and beamed again. She shifted slightly and tilted her head, making his eyes rove unwillingly but appreciatively over her legs, uncovered in a short skirt with her white feet clad in kid boots, comfortable and airy. Still a child, she was.

A smile wrought itself on Athrun's face, and he was pleasantly surprised to realise that he still enjoyed company.

"Have you had dinner?" She inquired sweetly, extending her hand to shift her mane of crimson hair over her other shoulder, and he stared at her fair neck, unblemished and pure. She probably didn't have a boyfriend after all this while, he decided slowly.

He coughed, realising she was waiting for a reply. "No."

And suddenly, Athrun found himself, reckless but simlutaneously courteous, "If you haven't, do you want to stay for dinner?"

Her eyes crinkled with laughter, "I don't see why not. Back home, it'd be the same pie with my flatmate. It's just a matter of where."

'And with whom,' She added wistfully to herself.

At least he was a naturally neat person, the apartment was as clean as it could be in its already dilapidated state, and all his clothes were either folded neatly or put in a laundry basket, save for the coat that had been flung over the couch, in want of a hanger in this place. The furniture was old, the chairs a bit sorry looking, but he was sure they were stable, and there was usually the couch to sit on in any case. The drawers however closed and compartmentalised they were, were filled with work documents, neatly filed, save for one. And Athrun was not, and had not been, keen to disclose the contents of the drawer and the letter that had reached him a few days upon his arrival.

He was vaguely aware that his things had been more or less sent over, and in spite of the usefulness of those and the apparent thoughtfulness, a growing bitterness had produced itself in his blood and thrived there, waiting, biding. Athrun's things were in order; he however, was not.

The sound of something being sliced made him snap back to attention, and by this time, they were already at the table, she leaning forward and carefully dividing the pastry, somehow looking well-suited to a sort of domestic bliss the men at work would be keen to chase after, Athrun thought humouressly, and he, ill at ease and stiff in his position. She leant forward and cheerfully passed him a plate, and he took it with a wan smile, then noticed her neckline. And he glanced away but wondered what was the point. There wasn't any real need to.

The meal was had in almost complete silence, except for her occasional anecdotes, his polite, vague replies, and her innocent friendliness. How like her.

When it was over and done with, he was again, surprised to find that the silence was a lot less stiffling than he had somehow imagined it to be, and that her presence was somehow calming and the lilt of her singsong speech rather amusing. But the brokeness in him still remained, and he wondered if she would grow aware of his gradually souring silence and consistent politeness but inability to be more personal with Meyrin.

He took some time to study her, aware of the changes she had undergone physically, and she did likewise, consciously or otherwise, she was not confirmed, but the crux being that she did. Athrun Zala was the same, just that, she thought with some disappointment, that she thought he'd be more open and warm. He wasn't really like that in general, but if he was caught unaware and relaxed, then they'd see another side to his perpetual courteous ways and a different veneer to his softspoken, yet firm nature. She had expected Cagalli to bring it out, and perhaps she had, Meyrin was not sure, just that maybe, just maybe, Athrun Zala did not want to exhibit it to her, Meyrin.

A rising and falling in her made her sigh a little. But she did not know what she had expected to see, and even now, she did not know what she felt.

"Meyrin," she was aware of him asking abruptly and quite bluntly, "How is your sister? And Shinn?"

"They broke up," she said calmly, "They just got tired of each other and called for a time-out. They're still good friends, anyhow. My sister insists they fell out of love, not that they were just fooling around. I'd like to believe her, it seems that way to me."

He did not know what to make of this. If she had bleated about how much they were in love or how deeply they felt for each other, he would have tasted a bitterness welling in his thoughts and heart. And now, that the fairytale broken and love lost, he wondered if he should have felt the sick agony of triumph in having gained a companion that misery was so well known for being fond of. And yet, he did not know what to feel. Just an emptiness and little else settled over the calm of the night.

"I see," he said languidly, not seeing at all, "I didn't expect that."

"I don't know," she offered, her voice velvet, a bit sad, a bit wry, but still hers, "They were together as friends for a long time, and then they progressed on amidst the heat of the war, in a short span of time. And I suspect Shinn is still trying to fit back into the world after the war, a place, like it or not, that he thrived in during the chaos and uncertainty. But he wants to move on from it all, that much I know at least. My sister is different, she's always wanted to be in a high octane environment, piloting, doing reckless things, just living the way she wants to. And she'll never leave ZAFT, I think, not when she revels in the training and the piloting. She calls it adventure, she does."

Her lengthy speech ended, and he wondered what Shinn and Lunamaria looked like at that point. Would Shinn have lost the edge in his ruby eyes and learnt how to smile without the frown still appearing on his brow? Would Luna have matured from the impulsive girl she had been and a reckless lover she must have made for Shinn?

He had seen a bit of the change when he had left the memorial, the flowers freshly planted and the petals blowing woefully in the wind. And he had known how Luna had protected Shinn in their battles, her reckless nature transmutated even as a lover. Would they change?

He didn't know.

"You three were together in the academy, weren't you?" Athrun inquired softly, suddenly not wanting to hear the sound of silence but the girl's voice running on and on. Not to hear what she was saying, but to feel the sound of her voice compensating for awkward silence. He had had too much of that already, now was an opportune moment to pursue something else.

"Right," Meyrin sighed, "Vino too, Rey as well. Rey was always very composed and very sure of himself, he was older than for his years, literally, figuratively, anything than I'd like to imagine. He was never interested in the affairs of the those in the Academy, he'd listen quietly as we gossiped, but he never took notice of anything that he deemed unimportant, no matter how," she chuckled, "titillating the details were. A friend my age once confessed her crush to him and he politely thanked her, went to the vending machine, bought one drink for her, none for himself, and then went back to his training. She was distraught, but they became good friends, that was how Rey always was."

She sighed, thinking of him, then she continued, not aware that Athrun was thinking of Rey as sadly as she was.

"Vino was different, he was always very sweet and endearing, just that he liked relying on people. We were good friends, always, and I used to drive him around in the crazy way he liked when the pilots were training elsewhere in another field and there was one vehicle in a huge space. He would enjoy it immensely, even after he got down and emptied his recent meals, but he always insisted on doing crazy things like that, just for the heck of it all."

"Shinn, he was always immature."

Athrun looked curiously at her and she quirked her lips, holding up her hands hastily, "Not that we all weren't, but he was particularly prone to, what's that called? Oh. Angst. He used to challenge our instructors, insist on the alternatives to handling knives, guns, piloting, anything he could get his hands on. My sister used to call him a troublemaker, and I think he remained that way even after you came."

She exchanged a meaningful glance that somehow caused Athrun to laugh. The briefing when he had snapped at Shinn was still remembered then. And suddenly, they were both aware of the first time he had laughed for that evening. Carefree and open, the sound was, amazing, this girl's effect on his brokeness.

"And then," Meyrin said excitedly, recalling something, "He was always saying he had no time for girls and that he had to work on becoming the strongest. I suppose that attitude made him become a Redcoat even with his love for attention and trouble-seeking. My sister was always gloating over the fact that she sailed through the examinations to be a Redcoat while he slogged and killed himself for it. But of course-,"

She looked suddenly unsure of herself, almost edgy, "We didn't know about his- family then."

Too late they all had. And when Athrun had first stepped on the Minerva, the jet-haired youth with strangely bestial ruby eyes had sized him up and gone straight, teeth already bared, for Ca-

He frowned.

"Anyway," Meyrin said, her voice drifting and lost in her thoughts, "I loved his rashness and earnestness, we didn't see much of that sort of honesty in ZAFT even when we were young. We were all good friends, and I thought we'd always stay that way, he was always somehow protective of me, I don't know why. Perhaps because I was the youngest and always trailing behind all of them, refusing to pilot the machines, spending hours working on bridge operations rather than fighting to get into the simulations, and then he told me once that he wished that I wouldn't be such a child."

"What did you say?" Athrun asked amusedly, somehow realising that Shinn's invariant, insiduous need to brother somebody had shown itself.

"I was awfully upset," Meyrin said dazedly, resting her head on the back of the chair, entirely at ease in his partment, Athrun noticed with some wryness, perhaps she was just like that, even in the Archangel, she had made friends very quickly, "And I shouted that he was an idiot and that I wasn't a child, and to prove it I-"

There was a horrible silence and her face was flaming. He sat up a little straighter, just a bit, but obvious, and his curiousity was immediately aroused.

"You what?"

She cleared her throat, "I er- kissed him."

He stared at her and found an unwilling grin stretching across his face. "Like that."

"Secret confession," she said guiltily, "I never even told my sister that I kissed a boy before she did, and not least of all, Shinn. She might have killed me."

"Fine," he said obligingly, recovering from the slight, cruel amusement they had had at her expense and Shinn's, "No wonder he never really talked to you while I was aboard."

She couldn't bring herself to glare at him, he was too gallant, too nice, too- Athrun. But then she glanced around, noting how bare and unfurnished the room was even though it was tidy and inscrutably neat. And she sensed a tiredness and unwillingness to- Oh, she didn't know, perhaps he was still not accustomed to her presence even after all this while.

Her hands tightened and twisted her skirt in her hands under the table, and her shoulders became tense. What was going on?

She licked her lips, making them moist, wondering if she should speak, wondering if she could ask, wondering if this was something not as simple as a good talk with an old acquaintance. Something hidden and lurking was swimming beneath both of them, and she wondered-

"How is Cagalli?" She asked recklessly, her face snapping up to meet his full in the eye before he could look away.

"Fine," he answered. There was a mechanical twang in his voice, and far too late, he realised the danger in the immediate lack of elaboration. So he drew his breath in and said, as nonchalantly as he could force out, "She's slaving away at her job like all of us, but you already knew that. But she's with Rainie and Kisaka, oh, Vino's there sometimes when he gets leave from ZAFT, so I'm just waiting for this current assignment to be over until I meet back with her again."

"Surely," Meyrin asked hesitantly, "You don't have to stick here in PLANT?"

"I do," he said auotmatically, "The overarching task is under me."

He did not bother elaborating, this was partially true in any case.

"Then this apartment," she looked around, seeing, perhaps not for the first time, its emptiness and faintly whitewashed sullen walls, "I mean, don't you have a house somewhere in Aprilius?"

"No," he said a bit more slowly, more insiduously than he should have, then he decided to give the heck of it to her, she deserved to know a little at least, "We-", he paused a little, "We have a house in December, but it's far more economical to stay where the headquarters are and the city is."

"Oh," she repeated a bit fretfully, understanding a little better, "So that's what it's about."

"Yes," he echoed dully, "That's it."

Monday came, work from morning, streched up to the evening, with a bit of extra time here and there, he made it home, just nice, at eight. An unfinished meal, a long, frigid bath, and he didn't mind this in the least, and then sleep.

Tuesday came, work from dawn, put to nightfall, ache in heart, unheard sighs in the mind, home, the dingy apartment and he took back some work to do, he declined to say anything to the landlady downstairs he met, and then a bath, cold again, as long as he could soak and close his eyes for, and then weariness claimed him and he closed his eyes.

He dreamt of two things, one, the girl he saw in the park. And then she held out a book for him, he took it, and then when he had completed the request and handed it to her, the girl was Cagalli and she looked sorrowfully at him and ran.

"Wait!" he cried feverishly, "Don't!"

The second thing he dreamt of was snow, just falling snow and the familiar sensation of her arms hugging him tightly and it was all crucial to hold her back and stand still, but she began to melt and disappear with the snow.

He woke up and his eyes were darkened, looking at the stains on the ceiling, the pitiful peels of paint, but not seeing, not seeing.

Wednesday was easier to get through, work was extended to fit in datelines and he reached home, exhausted, then took a bath, neglected dinner, and fell to his bed.

He decided that this was the way to go.

Thursday followed suit as such.

Friday was difficult, they insisted that they all go early for a good weekend, and Athrun found himself resting on the couch with too much time and too much thoughts. He didn't cry, he hadn't cried for a long time, but the numbness and frigidness in his heart was more painful than a few hot, fleeting tears.

Meyrin knocked on his door, he let her in without the unusual greeting he had hurled at her the other time, and they spent an hour talking about the politics. This time, he was careful not to mention anything about the past. If not, she would become invariably suspicous, and her was not yet too lost to know that he did not want Meyrin Hawke to familiarise herself too much with him.

And when she went back to her own apartment, he lost the need and urge to talk about anything and curled up in a fitful slumber, dreaming of her again, of sunlight, amber, her voice, her hands, her smile, just-

Her.


	21. Chapter 21

Disclaimer: I own nothing of GS/GSD. R&R please.

* * *

Chapter 21

Pausing only to salute his subordinates, Athrun walked hurriedly down the halls. He felt like telling them, "If you see Yzak Joule, kill him for me," but he reckoned that inclination was neither appropriate for someone his age and ranking nor professional either.

"Are you done skulking around and ignoring me?" He heard Yzak snarl from behind the door he had stopped in front of to knock.

Wait-what door?

This was the hangar, for Land's sakes, Athrun reminded himself tightly, just because he wasn't sleeping well or working himself, day by day, pile by pile, to the shell of the person he was, 'or might have been', he thought tightly, was no reason to forget these things. Yes, he hadn't been working here for quite some time, not after he had been posted to-

In any case, Yzak Joule, the meddling bastard, had really irked him this time. No more stiff politeness for that man, Athrun swore, he was doing this on purpose to get at him, and Athrun wouldn't stand for it. Not when his life needed some normality and this man was going take it away from him.

Throwing his shoulders back and marching forward, right open into the hangar, he spotted a spock of white and identified it as Yzak. And the maroon, oh- Officer Hahenfuss.

He paused, they hadn't seen him, perhaps he could still turn back and leave them alone for a bit, but then, he decided sourly, it was tit for tat. If Yzak was going to screw with him, why, Athrun'd show him what he could do when he was desperate and bitter!

"Commander Joule!" He called raucously, saluting as the norm called for it, but, just a bit too brief. He dropped his hand as if it hurt him to raise it.

He watched the white spock turn around calmly and holler, "What?"

The maroon spock turned and disappeared into a cockpit. Oh well.

"I require your presence here right this instant!

'And get your sorry self over here before I pummel your arse, you fairy!' He added to himself as an afterthought, and he smirked, enjoying the grudge he nursed against the man who would have usually done just that for Athrun Zala. He watched the white spock sigh and march nearer and nearer until Yzak Joule was saluting in front of him. He ignored this and said harshly, "You re-arranged the schedule?"

"Yes," Yzak replied coolly, "You want more days off?"

"No," Athrun said bitingly, "I want my old schedule back, same shifts, not a single change unless you want it to be longer hours, I'd gladly comply."

"No can do," Yzak said mockingly in return, his hand on his hip, looking superbly unruffled although his eyebrows had, for a single instant, vanished behind his fringe, "I arranged the schedule because one of my officers is transferring to yours and he's applied to have certain time slots so he can see to personal matters. Mind you, I didn't encourage that, he applied without my knowledge and the upper brass gave him the approval, so all I was asked to do was reschedule some things so it'd all fit in."

He paused, watching Athrun look strained.

"I don't see why you're so pissed over your schedule being changed," Yzak said bluntly, "You're given two hours extra off everyday, and unless you're a control-freak who hates other Commanders deciding what time you get to go home, which I am, by the way, I never realised you were, then you've no incentive to look like I told the media that you had the hots for your secretary, who by the way, should be removed."

The lengthy speech ended, but he didn't look out of breath yet. Remarkable. Man of few words, not.

"Look," Athrun said gratingly, "I'm not half as concerned about you rescheduling as much as the fact that I'm missing two hours of work everyday, three and a hlaf on Friday even. What's the matter with PLANT's upper brass?"

"No issue," Yzak answered brusquely, "They just thought it'd be for the best. Even my schedule is being changed, heck, everyone else's is, and they're all given the same time off as you, which is abominably stupid in my opinion since they-"

And he might have added some unsavoury terms about the unproductivity but he paused very abruptly and stared at Athrun with growing comprehension, "You mean you want to work those extra hours, slaving away like a ruddy cow?"

The impact of his words hit him in the face like a well-thrown punch. It might have been the strange shock in his friend's voice, or the realisation of this that even Athrun hadn't made up to this point. But it was no doubt, the truth. Two extra hours of staring into space, broken inside, dead on the outside, sawdust dinner, fending off Meyrin's questions in case she visited, which she did not frequent very often, thank God, and the general pain. He'd rather work and not think so much.

"I never thought I'd say this, Zala," Yzak said slowly, "But you're getting stupider than you've always been, you need to relax. Relax and get some proper sleep, for God's sake, you're working yourself to the slaughterhouse."

They stared at each other, one in some strange shock, and the other with bitterness in his face and mouth twisted in the sardonic half-smile.

"See here," Yzak said eventually, leaning on the railings as if he were suddenly drained of any ability to be aggressive to Athrun, "Today's a Friday, I'm going to get a drink without Dearka, he's off dealing with some extra business, and if you say you will do it for him, I will kill both of you. I think you'd better come along, this is getting incredibly strange."

And he coloured slightly and muttered, "I'm not concerned, but if we don't get you sorted out then ETERNITY's going to have a lunatic leading them into some wild goose chase with that elusive thing called peace."

And Athrun found himself nodding stiffly, and marching off with Yzak Joule putting him in tow like a broken down car. Which, really, Athrun was, if a person wanted to be figurative about it.

The bar was noisy as usual, full of grease monkeys comparing tales about their girlfriends, and the ZAFTies lounging on high chairs or in squishy, maroon chairs in the dim lighting, camouflaging the Recoats spectacularly well iof they hadn't bothered changing into something more casual, and making the normal soldiers look like mossy boulders drifting in red wine. And the bartenders were kept busy, filling glasses, mixing drinks, all that usual business on Friday nights. Athrun spotted his secretary, she had brought a change of clothes and was partying at the side, contributing as best as she could to the noise of the area. And he rolled his eyes and turned to Yzak, by this time seated on another high chair with a drink of his own, and said emotionlessly, "My secretary's almost useless."

"Come," Yzak chided derisively "If you want to be mean, go all the way. She's absolutely useless. Go on, say it, a little rage can't hurt anybody."

"Just alot of furniture and me, who was almost strangled to death when you grabbed my collar," Athrun thought snidely, and said aloud, "How's your secretary?"

"He's absolutely-"

"Useless?"

"No, you arse, I was going to say brilliant," Yzak said calmly, fishing the glass for the cherry at the bottom and calling for another drink. He must have had the bladder size of Loch Lomond, Athrun thought rather decidedly. He downed his own glass and did similarly as Yzak had demonstrated, if they were going to drink, they might as well drink and get thoroughly drunk. It wasn't as if Athrun hadn't gotten drunk lately. He rather liked it, in fact, he didn't have hangovers, he used to be the envy of the team, in fact. Dearka and Rusty got terrible ones, and yet, they loved getting drunk. Miguel used to claim that they cured those with the girls they had met the night before. Miguel himself needed a long cold bath to shake off the hangover, and Yzak had raging headaches for an hour or two in the morning and as a result, he, well, raged. Athrun was normal, they hated him for that.

And Nicol, well, he stuck to peach juice.

The point was that Athrun got drunk without coming off worse in anything except a head full of buzzing, a slight cramp from sleeping in awkward positions because he hadn't had enough sense to sleep properly while he was drunk, and the best of the benefits being the disengagement of his thoughts and the memory of her. Although, he thought morosely, his sleep had traces of her laughter and voice intermingled with the haze that shrouded him in his slumber.

"Brilliant, you say," Athrun asked dryly, "Are we being a little generous here?"

"Try," Yzak said curtly, now stirring his drink busily like it might have a fly he needed to fish out," Try getting a secretary who does everything without a single word coming from you and does it perfectly, damn well, and without a single mistake you can fire him for. These people are certainly paying more for their children's genes."

"Oh," Athrun said dully, with lack of extra comment. God, were they so hapless that the conversation was turning to their secretaries?

"How's Meyrin Hawke?" Yzak asked suddenly, picking at the pizza listlessly. He had eaten a few bites of it and then left it with the cheese tendrils looking decidedly pitiful.

'Don't play with your food,' Athrun wanted to tell him like how his mother had always done, but he realised that his was equally woebegone said instead, "Fine. And er- how do you know here again?"

He watched Yzak snort and resume the chewing of his pizza before his friend finally remarked, "She's a pretty girl, that one. I was invited to train an advanced group of pilots, specifically the GUNDAM mobile suit weapon group, and guess who I met?"

"Her sister?"

"No," Yzak said flippantly, flicking his fingers across the table as if he were itching to rip something apart, 'probably is,' Athrun thought haphazardly, "I met the brat boyfriend and his girlfriend who lost her wallet and I found it and happened to see a picture of her sister. She told me that the girl saved the great war hero's butt, yours, so of course I had to learn to recognise the poor unfortunate soul Meyrin Hawke is. I've met her anyway," He added, "She works in a separate branch for ZAFT, but sometimes, she has to collect things from the headquarters, that kind of thing. Her sister's brat boyfriend pointed her out to me the other time."

"Shinn Asuka, you mean?" Athrun said, trying not to look amused. He hadn't seen the youth for quite some time, even after he'd came back to PLANT. How he wanted to throttle Shinn at times! Granted, the boy was rash and headstrong, but dreadfully honest and sincere, even in his raging fits, and sometimes, Athrun felt as if he had a younger brother of sorts. That was the sort of boy Shinn had been.

"Alright," Yzak concluded, "Maybe he wasn't a brat, he was a bit quiet at times, but mind you, he was confident still, superb skills in what he does, make no mistake for my words. But that face has the letters B-R-A-T tattoed across the vampiric skin stretched across that forehead of his."

"You think he looks like a vampire?" Athrun echoed, somewhat tickled. Trust Yzak to have that mean streak that never vanished.

"Black hair, red eyes, white skin," Yzak drawled, "What could be missing except the coffin?"

A silence ensued and Yzak drank, gulping slightly. He glanced at the corner of his eye and the cup to view Athrun, quiet and moody looking. 'At least he isn't picking a fight,' Yzak reasoned, quite forgetting that he was the cause of their disputes, or rather, one-sided arguments, since Athrun tended to be politely disinterested whenever Yzak itched for a fight, and of course, that made Yzak more enraged than ever. Then-

"Bats."

He set down the heavy mug with a dull thud, sloshing a little of the drink.

"Shut up, Zala."

A cynical snort from the man.

"Likewise, Joule."

Childish, both of them were. Perhaps the influence of the alcohol? Probably not. They were grown men, they could hold their liquor remarkably well, perhaps it was the influence of a meeting too long forgone and an easy chat work had mostly deprived them of.

"You know," Yzak said disagreeably, as if to compensate for the pleasant, agreeable silence just minutes ago, "You ruined my chance to talk to Shiho."

"Did I?" Athrun said mockingly, "Like how you ruined my chance to stay in the headquarters for a blasted two more hours every day, and three on Friday?"

"Are we still on that?" Yzak muttered unpleasantly, "I told you it wasn't really me that screwed your schedule and exposed you as a loony workhorse. And you're evading my attempt to pick a fight about you interrupting my conversation with her."  
"Conversation?" Athrun said snidely, "You mean confrontation?"

"Don't push it," his friend warned, although he was smirking slightly. He sighed, low and heavy and then, he leaned back, cracking a few knuckles to ease his arms and hands.

"How's it going with her?" Athrun asked curiously, in spite of himself and his promise to not ask about things like this when his own relationship was about as perfect as hell itself. The last he recalled, wait, he had seen both of them in ORB when they had been guest trainers for the soldiers there, and then-

"We're engaged- sort of," Yzak explained briefly, "Just thinking how not to trigger only about a thousand million landmines."

"Political marriage if I guess correctly," Athrun said slowly, "Your mother right?"

A curt nod. "It still is a political marriage, just that her House consists of a fortune and just her, no more ties with the political or social scene left, given that she's the only member of the Hahenfuss line now, and the other factor being that we happen to tolerate each other's company."

Which was, Athrun decided, probably Yzak's way of saying that he worshipped the very hem of Shiho Hahenfuss' male uniform. Typical.

"How's it going with the Princess then?"

He should have seen it coming. 'Athrun, you bloody idiot.'

"Fine. We're just," He swallowed to clear the block, "missing each other from time to time."

There was a spot of silence in the huge arena of noise pollution.

"You didn't have to come back to PLANT to oversee the running," Yzak remarked pointedly, "It's your own fault you want to be so heroic and work extra and make more sacrifices than what is required. I can't imagine how the Princess can handle both you and your organisation. She probably voodoos ZAFT secretly. Might be why we still have Dearka working for us."

"Supreme Commander, not Princess," Athrun corrected him lightly, although his insides were calmly twisting themselves and untying the entrails and then knotting them again, "That's her official title."

"Doesn't want to just be a figurehead," Yzak nodded his approval, "But I'm willing to make a gamble that she doesn't tell you to call her Supreme Commander instead of Princess."

"I don't call her Princess," Athrun reminded Yzak and him vaguely, "I just call her- Cagalli."

And the rush to his head with her name on his lips made him want to bury his head in his arms, and the familiarity of the name and foreign sensation that he had managed to alienate from her name and the constant refraining from the pronunciation sent a crushing force through his arms, and he ached for something.

Yzak was studying him carefully, "Credit me with more intelligence, Zala."

"What?" He asked defensively, suddenly returning to where he was, the noisy bar where only they could hear themselves, the tired old bartenders in the little sections polishing glasses, hurring with trays of drinks, the masses of people, dim lighting, cold burns of alcohol on his tongue-

"It's not going smooth, is it?"

"Don't assume," He said coldly, "I told you it's okay."

"Have it your way," Yzak retorted, "In a few years' time, when the world realises that you've been living apart for more than a year, which by the way, you arrived here in PLANT almost half a year ago, don't say it's fine, even Kira Yamato won't be fooled by that. I've seen you with her before, I know it's not all fine and dandy, I can tell because I've seen it. The rest of the world haven't, they won't catch wind of it if you're careful, but it's a matter of later if not sooner. I'm not sure if you care about the rest of the world, but for God's sake and your own, do."

He ended this, distressingly quiet, and then drank more. Athrun did the same, with very little emotion left in his eyes and just a wince between his eyebrows.

When they finally called it quits, it was two in the morning, although the crowds were still pushing their way in, a sleepless night filled with merrymaking and laughter for them.

Upset, although he couldn't place his finger on it for various reasons, one being the grogginess of his head, Athrun fitted the key and was disturbed to realise after five minutes that his keyhole wouldn't fit. And then it struck him that he was drunk, and he snorted with laughter. A drunk saying he was drunk, like how a Coordinator said all Coordinators were liars, so which was which and what was true?

He tried the next door- bingo.

His foot hitched the back of the door and it slammed, locking him in his apartment. The flies around his ears were still buzzing, oh well, he'd sleep it off. And hopefully, he laughed brokenly, he wouldn't find an indecently exposed version of Lacus Clyne in his bed in the morning, Cagalli would see them and then-

What would she do?

His fingers stopped their path down the buttons of his shirt, and a puzzled thought crept into the haze of his mind, he hadn't thought about it, he had never seen her jealous about the attention the females gave him, although he had expressed to her once that he would have liked to feed the man who was staring openly at her, eyeballs that Athrun Zala personally gouged out from him. She had laughed and called him a turkey, he had grabbed her and carted her off, ignoring her sputtered protests and squeals until they were both breathless from laughter and that her arms were thrown around his neck, so now what would she do?

He didn't know.

"I'll ask her about it in the morning," he promised himself, still stuck in his stupor, his shirt half-unbuttoned and his feet resting on the pillow and his head at the foot of the bed.

Then it struck him, just before he dozed off, that he wouldn't know, because he was alone in this place in December City and she apart and away from him.


	22. Chapter 22

Disclaimer: I own nothing of GS/GSD. R&R please.

* * *

Chapter 22 

Her flat mate had brought her friend over.

Flopping to the side with a dreary sigh, Meyrin tried to tell herself that it was fine, perfectly fine, that her colleague-cum-coworker's friend was noisy, hateful, inconsiderate, and generally male.

"Could you keep it down?" She called weakly. But they didn't hear her, and as if to make her headache worse, the noise level from outside, movie, crass jokes, sounds she didn't want to think too much about, grew more piercing, in effect aggravating her temples and inducing their throb to increase multifold.

Her blanket lay limply over her, and she tossed it to the side and turned to the wall periodically, putting her body near it to lose some heat. She hated fevers and the wretched flu, they made her cold, hot, queasy, and generally weak. And Meyrin did not want to be associated with that word, figuratively or literally, she was determined to be what she had worked to become, strong, independent, and as what her friend would tease her about, 'man-less.'

'Stupid arses,' she thought angrily, feeling more irritable than she would have normally. She was twenty-two, well, almost twenty-three, and she was still wondering what to do with her life. Of course there was the good ol' five-hell-day-work-week ZAFT, which she didn't quite mind, her employer Barty was bright, young and enjoyed a good joke after the work was nicely done, and he didn't take himself or her too seriously, and generally a genuinely nice person. He didn't even question why she'd quit being Athrun Zala's assistant six years ago.The work was fine and as enjoyable as it could get, the pay was good enough for her to live well and take a short holiday at the end of each year, the perks were nice, and she'd be travelling around the world as the ZAFT ambassador's assistant, something she actually liked.

And she congratulated herself for having some marginal benefit of leaving ETERNITY and Athrun Zala's employment, since being away from the all important headquarters and in a smaller division of ZAFT meant a proportionately and significantly smaller workload. And as long as she could do what she did best with computers and the lot, that was fine by Meyrin Hawke.

The wall was gaining too much of her heat, she had to save some of its granite coolness for later. So she pulled herself the other way and was bombarded with the noises that spilled and squilloed their way into her room. Bonita was pretty, she thought derisively, and smart too, quite a fair worker, never shirked, but oh, her taste in the opposite gender!

The actress in the movie they were supposed to be watching outside had a terrible laugh, it sounded like a chicken being sent to the slaughterhouse. In general, Meyrin would tolerate things like these, but not tonight. But oh- what other option did she have?

She stood woozily, and proceeded to nearly trip and fall flat to break her nose on her blanket. She did not curse, she was too prim and too sick for that.

Still clutching her bolster and in her admittedly childish pajamas, the worst of the lot with the snow bunny patter everywhere on her twenty-two year old body, she stumbled out into the dim lighting of the sitting room where her flat mate and her boyfriend were admittedly sitting but doing ZAFT-knows-what.

And Meyrin noticed that they failed to do likewise and said meekly because she didn't want to look intruding even though truth be told, she was doing that, obviously, and spoke up, "I was wondering if you could lower the volume of the stereo and your voices."

"Sorry," Bonita apologized charmingly, the brat she had for a boyfriend glanced at Meyrin, took in her disheveled face, weak eyes, and damn it all, bunny pyjamas that Lunamaria had squealed over but refused to wear, and turned back to Bonita saying dismissively, "Ah, she's just grumpy that she got no-one like you Bonie, we can make as much noise we want, she hasn't' anywhere to go anyway, kid that she is."

Mistake of the century. Bonita turned pale.

Shinn Asuka had told Meyrin once, that the danger word for Stellar Louissierwas 'die', but for her, it was 'kid'.

She jumped on the no good punk immediately. Oh she'd been itching for a fight, and if he was going to ask for a shelling, she'd give him one all the way.

"Bloody punk that you are," she said calmly, "Listen up. I'm twenty-three, and I happen to have a fetish for all things cute, cuddly and decidedly un-twenty-three, but that's none of your sodding business. At least I have the consideration for the person who bought it for me, while you have absolutely none for anyone. Don't fret darling," She said this with her best Humphrey Bogart smile, "I'm not here to question the nature of your upbringing, I'm only here to say good night and goodbye, and good luck with whatever you both were trying to do."

"But where are you going to go? For Pete's sake it's almost midnight!" Bonita protested, standing up and allowing her skirt to fall to the place where it should have been in the first place. Her boyfriend was too stunned to speak, Meyrin noted with some satisfaction, score one for her then.

"So you noticed then. I just need to go somewhere where I can get a goodnight's rest without being forced to interfere with midnight movies and some other kind of action film," Meyrin said dryly, but not unkindly to Bonita. The girl was too nice to be angry with, she decided, against the better judgment and uncomfortable throb of her temples.

She opened the door and moved out wearily, not slamming it, she was too tired for that sort of thing and she wasn't childish anyway, bunny pajamas or not.

Her sister had given those to her a long, long time ago, and how Meyrin had loved those. She'd bear-hugged her sister, even though the pajamas were humungous at that time for her and she'd worn only the shirt as a sort of minidress with shorts underneath. Now, the pajamas were about just nice, if not slightly tight. Lunamaria hadn't wanted those then and had given the rejected clothes to her, but Meyrin found out about that only later. Of course she had been slightly miffed, but those pajamas fit too snugly by then, ugly pattern or not.

Her feet brought her along the rows of bushes in the compound, and there were some stray cats holding conversations at the side. They fled when they saw her.

'Must be the pajamas', she thought with a misfire wryness.

And then she found herself strolling along, her bolster still in tow, to his block.

She knew it very well; she knew it like the back of her hand.

When the second war ended, she had stuck fiercely to Athrun, he never encouraged her, nor told her to go away, and that was good enough. She loved him, she did this unselfishly, thoroughly, unknowingly, unreciprocated, but she loved him, really, she did. And she had been over the moon to find out that she was given a chance to start afresh with her life, leave the unhappiness and awkwardness of the teen years behind her, be a grown-up, live the grown-up way, next to the flat he'd been granted until he decided he didn't want it anymore. As long as he did, she knew she'd want the apartment in the compound. The very same one, that she'd been granted.

Her feet were dragging across the sand lazily, tracing patterns here and there. She'd done that before, hadn't she, exactly the same way on the evening she had decided to leave Athrun and the aspect of the new life, or so she'd thought. She'd been thrilled to be put in the compound he was in, one coincidence, dumb luck, whatever anybody wanted to call it, she was happy with her lot. He never really took much notice of her, at least not in the way she wanted him to, but he didn't ask her to get lost, never treated her as obviously as a child the way her sister, Shinn, Rey, even sometimes Vino, of all people, treated her. And she loved him more than ever.

But all she'd been holding onto were half-fulfilled dreams, wistful longings of the heart, unspoken wishes, and a ring, sparkling and beautiful yes, but not hers, not even when its rightful owner had entrusted it to her, and never, for that matter.

Meyrin paused to look at the moon. It was crescent shaped, quit sharp and sickle, just like how it'd been before, on the evening she'd finished her letter and made arrangements to leave. She found out, through sheer miscommunication of certain documents in the office at a certain point in time after the Second War, that Lacus Clyne had arranged the refacilitation of those who had fought bravely for peace. She could have chosen to be clueless, but Meyrin knew Kira Yamato, handsome, calm, fair-tempered on a normal day, was the twin brother of Cagalli Yula Atha, and the connections were more than she could bear with their implications in the very place she was staying and the very things she was doing for her work.

The flat she did not sell, she rented it out to Bonita, because she supposed that fate might have wounded her back to it at one point or another, even though the job she had signed on for would take her all over the world as the young ZAFT ambassador's even younger assistant.

Cagalli was too kind, she thought morosely, squatting by the sandbox that children were supposed to be playing in. The landlady, kind, elderly and with a leaky memory forgot that the entire compound was mostly government or civil workers, the children had grown up and left or became those workers about ten years ago.

The air in the night was chilly by now, and she sneezed comically and made a face. Then her temples contracted and she really couldn't help but curse creatively.

She stood up, and stumbled forward, aching to get out of the cold, to stop being so stubborn and harsh on herself, to live and let live, and found her feet dragging her to the lift and up, and then there she was, Meyrin Hawke, a bedraggled mess of a girl, standing outside Athrun Zala's door, meekly ringing the bell and wondering why the hell she was doing this.

She rang it thrice, vaguely wondering if he'd even get up and yell at her to go away, and suddenly, the door was unlatched and flung open. A shaft of moonlight struck through the opening, illuminating their faces for each other, and she saw a bleary-eyed looking Athrun staring, astounded at her.

"Wha're you doing?" He asked sleepily, and she smelt the cool, sweet sting of alcohol on his breath and realized that his slightly mussed hair and slurred speech meant a little more than a man who was forced to wake up and an ungodly hour.

But it did not deter her. She fought through the haze her head was in and briefly explained to Athrun, who still had not opened the grill, as if she needed more discouragement than she already had from her considerable headache and fever that her roommate and her boyfriend were too noisy and she desperately needed a place with some silence to rest.

He stared at her, slightly more awake, and saw a petite girl with long red hair and a pretty but weary face, and it struck him that she needed help. It took him all of half a second to unlock the grill, and she stumbled in, still clutching the bolster rather pitifully, yawning and murmuring her heartfelt thanks and that she'd sleep on the sofa.

As he helped her in, the graze of their hands sent a jolt of thought that she was far too warm, and Athrun pulled himself near, so that their foreheads met, and she coloured terribly, still sane enough to know that she could have kissed him if she wanted to.

"You have a fever!" He said, quite shocked.

"I do," she explained miserably and quite deliriously even though she didn't detect it, "But it's fine, I'll sleep it off, I just need it to be quiet without those movies blasting."

She was aware that he was leading her to his couch, even though her eyes were nearly shut with fatigue and illness. The couch he made her lie on was wonderfully soft and large for her petite frame, and the cushions he stuffed and fluffed under her were squishy and very pillow-like, just what she needed.

Thank god his couch was the sort that felt like a bed, she remembered thinking happily.

It was a haze to her, but she was being roused form her light, unconscious doze, and felt him sitting next to her and asking her to swallow something, and some water being drained down her parched throat. She gulped thirstily and choked, quite inevitably, but he was patting her back, murmuring something she didn't understand but knew was soothing, and she soon settled.

And the night claimed her for its own, for she was a child again, curling up and snoozing in a bed that her sister would make for her in the morning. A hand was stroking away her long hair, pushing her head up on the cool surface of the cushion, and she smiled sleepily and grasped her sister's finger. A wet and very cold something was dripping on her forehead, her bangs were being forced up by a steady and cool hand. Lunamaria always knew what to do in these times. It seemed to her that Lunamaria was always the responsible, trustworthy one, even after their father had left them for another person and their mother was busy working to make ends meet and coming to their aunt's house only once every alternate weekends, and never knowing that Meyrin was being bullied in school, but no matter, her sister would always beat those boys up and make sure they wouldn't treat her like a helpless child even though she was in fact doing the same to Meyrin…

When the first knife of sunlight prodded and proceeded to stab her in the eyes, she noticed that she was not in a couch like she'd requested, but in a bed. His bed.

And she started up with a shout of dismay, promptly fell over the bolster he had put next to her, and tripped, stumbling like a pile of potatoes trying to walk, right and out into the living room.

Meyrin crept over; he was still sleeping on the couch. And it hit her, as subtly and as suddenly as a two-hundred ton brick wall, why she had lost her heart to someone like Athrun Zala. Schoolgirl crush, one-sided romance, delusional fantasies, whatever she knew it was, the gist was that she had loved Athrun Zala with every fiber existing in her.

Her fingers were reaching hesitantly, half lighted by the rays of sun that were creeping insidiously on his face, and she touched his cheek with her fingertips, half-afraid that he'd shatter, or more realistically, that he'd wake up and find her peering like a gibbon at him. It never occurred to Meyrin that she was twenty-two, beautiful, loved and lusted by and after for with everyone she met, and that the men at work were falling over themselves to get close to her. Because inside, she was Meyrin Hawke, the girl who had fought so hard to discover who she was and the girl who's carefully planted hopes and dreams had been crushed carelessly like those flowers that were never meant to grow.

She thought to herself, not realizing that her unassuming, unadulterated ways drew attention and deep feelings from many she did not even know well, that Athrun was very handsome. She'd seen plenty of those around, she thought quietly, Athrun, composed, responsible for himself and those around him, always slightly stiff but wonderfully Athrun, her employer, sunny and caring, energetic about his goals for work, Shinn in his reckless, uninhibited ways, the way he half-shouted each time he talked, Rey with his aristocratic, powerful aura and slight smile, Vino with his childlike charm and talkative ways, and her father, she'd been so tiny and so young when he'd left, but she always remembered his auburn hair and warm smile, so handsome and cruel he was.

Shaking away the fragments the way she might have pulled the tendrils of a plant away from the edge of a pot, Meyrin paused, gazing at the man she was kneeling next to, Athrun Zala was certainly missing Cagalli, she thought smilingly.

"Look at you," she whispered gently to a sleeping man, "Your job takes you here and you try to fool other and yourself that you don't miss her much. I hope it ends soon so you can return to her."

As if to reply, he suddenly stirred, and she froze and sat backwards, just in time for him to yawn slightly, crack open his sleep-encrusted eyes, and sit up slowly. A cushion bounced off his chest, and he noticed, quite abruptly, that Meyrin was present.

He looked so embarrassed that she was inclined to shake her head helplessly and laugh.

"You're awake," he said awkwardly, and she returned his cheer instead with a smiley, "I am."

Eager to not feel strange with his friend, he had come to terms and acceptance that she was much more than a mere acquaintance, but a true friend, he stood up, helped her up and said courteously, "You are feeling better, I hope?"

"I am," she said in wonder, realizing that the trance beat was switched off in her head and she had a clear consciousness that suddenly surprised her, and she laughed, never feeling more comfortable in her state of being. Her pajamas had been soaked with sweat in the night as she fought off the fever, and now, she felt inadequate, especially when he looked so fresh and unaffected by the night's unpleasant events and so alert.

But Athrun didn't seem to mind, he told her to take a shower after he noticed her discomfort, and pulled out a shirt or two and some pants for her to wear.

"Thanks, and I'm sorry to intrude," she said in a rush, her gratefulness genuine and fresh enough. He smiled, thinking that the men at work were probably engaging in battles everyday, but she was likely to be too unassuming to realize this. Athrun's perception was accurate, but neither of them understood nor realize the depth of this.

By the time she came out, he had arranged breakfast, eggs and that sort of thing, and feeling strangely at ease even in his oversized t-shirt and baggy pants that made her feel like a hobo, but a very well-looked after, clean, and loved hobo, she sat down and tucked in while he watched her silently while sipping a steaming cup of coffee. Bitter, she supposed, he refused to take sugar with it even when she had been his assistant.

"Your pajamas are interesting," he remarked pleasantly, his green eyes watching her over the top of the cup's rim. She snorted, her mouth twisted into a grin, and she clucked and said in retaliation, "Yours weren't as impressive."

He laughed a bit, this was true, he had been wearing only some old shorts and the blue ZAFT exercise shirt, by force of habit, and so he hadn't had any night clothes as- interesting as Meyrin Hawke's.

"Your flatmate's a girl?" He said, frowning a little. She nodded obediently, like a good child, and then he realized, she was one. He smiled to himself at that thought, but he did not express it however, he knew she would be displeased.

"Doesn't seem to consider much about you," he said emotionlessly, and she sighed and dabbed her lips with a napkin, replying hesitantly, "I like her, she knows how to work hard and have fun, just the taste in boyfriends is the only thing lacking other than the soundproof rooms I should have installed."

"Fine," he nodded humorously, "So that's how it is."

A few minutes of comfortable silence passed and she finally cleared her throat and told him that she would get back to her own flat. He looked a bit surprised, as if he had expected her to stay for the rest of the year, and she laughed at his muddle headedness, although inside, she was screaming at him to stop being so damn- what was the word?

Only one, she decided later, the word was Athrun-like.

She smiled to herself and reluctantly took a second bath in the evening as she always did. The scent, masculine but very comforting and somewhat sensual in a raw way, would be washed off, the scent she had accumulated from taking his clothes on her. But she would do it; a friend was someone who returned the clothes she'd borrowed on time.

Bonita noticed the scent of course, she had a nose for smelling out prize catches, or so she proudly said, and she was in awe of Meyrin.

"You've got a man hidden and stashed somewhere like a chest of honey in some old, cracked tree!" She said, delighted and somewhat relived to know that the rumors at work were false, rumours that Meyrin Hawke, charming, adorable, beautiful, intelligent, talented at her work and basically a domestic goddess but highly disinterested or oblivious to the attention of the males, was unrepentantly not straight.

"No," Meyrin said, horrified.

"Don't lie to me, young lady," Bonita crowed teasingly, "I smell the man smell, and heck, I'm not blind, those clothes are not yours, at least I can see that."

She proceeded to hum a tune to herself as Meyrin marched into the bathroom in the evening while Bonita prepared their dinner after a satisfying, long day of work.

"You're not a child anymore, Meyrin Hawke!" She congratulated Meyrin, once the girl had stepped out in fresh clothes for the night, the unknown man's clothes in the laundry basket, to be sent and washed at the laundry's the next day, "You're not a child anymore!"

"No," Meyrin said calmly, patting her damp, slight curling red hair with her towel, "I'm not.

She had loved so deeply and had been cut just as deeply, but she knew how to use scented soap to lather and wash away the scent of him that she wanted so much to keep, the essence she wanted to know more, to know better, to belong to, and she knew how to give up a man she thought she would never meet to a person she loved as well, for both their happiness' sake.

And to Meyrin, that was the mark of a grown-up.

* * *

Author's note:

To be prepared for the upcoming chapters, I'd like to get the reader's help on naming the twins. Perhaps a pair of names with the same starting alphabet'd be great. I'm personally stuck on naming, so do me the honours/favours!

Things to note:

Both the twins are male. I considered having one female but in Truth, I happened to mention both were male.

'The boys...' So oops.

And I'd love it if the origin/relevance of the name is put in. Just for my sake. )


	23. Chapter 23

Disclaimer: I own nothing of GS/GSD. R&R Please.

* * *

Chapter 23

The letter in his hand made him feel like it was something déjà vu, only more nightmare than realistic dream.

"You mean this is official?" He asked Meyrin weakly.

"Of course!" She exclaimed sharply, "I don't hand out invitations I'm given for fun, do I? And Barty isn't a crazy employer who asks his assistant to go plan fake galas!"

Bartholomew Robin, the youngest ZAFT ambassador and spokesperson yet, Athrun considered, but she was right, he wasn't Dearka's sort, the kind which sent out false messages that it was Yzak's birthday and for them to salute extra crisp when he walked by for a private joke.

"But the ZAFT gathering is only for soldiers and personnel, isn't it?" Athrun said hastily, racking his brains desperately for a reason not to go.

"And it's headed by the ZAFT ambassador who's job is also to mitigate amongst the military spokespersons of EA, ORB, and only a thousand other regions," Meyrin retorted lightly, wondering why he was being so shy about this.

She paused and looked at him slowly, "You know, I thought you might appreciate the fact that I'm telling you in advance so you can have a head start on what to wear to the event. Barty told me not to tell anyone especially since only a hundred invitations have been printed out as of lately, there are six hindered more in coming, he thought it'd be more fair that way, but being your good friend, I'm helping, aren't I?"

"What's there to get a head start on?" He asked blankly, not understanding much, "It's the usual suit and tie attire, and I didn't realize you were on first-name terms with Robin."

"He told us all to call him that," she said pleasantly, "It's his personal policy for esprit de corps."

And Athrun stared at her, suddenly thinking of Heine Westenfluss and the easy-going nature and ready smile, light lighting, quick to appear always. But he shook of the memories quickly; he knew they were part of the past and the present mattered more. Especially since-

"Please don't tell me it's a fancy-do thing," He said pleadingly, and she smiled humorously and tilted her head, saying slowly, Well, it's not really, this is an event for the media to get some coverage on how good military relations are, trilaterally, amongst the three superpowers, so there's less discussion and more light conversation for this kind of thing, not too many security guards, just the minimal. Besides, the guests are soldiers, I expect they'll be carrying rifles under their tuxedos and knives under their skirts by force of habit. Or the good old blade in the shoe thing, Barty tells me he has a couple of those."

"Stop joking," he said tensely, "I can hardly bare those functions, I feel like I have to say something."

"You do," Meyrin insisted, "You're the head of the main security and diplomatic organization right under ZAFT's headquarters, you'll have to make pleasant talk and get to know some other people, won't you? And besides, you came from those privileged families in PLANT; you should be well-versed in hand-kissing, wine-sipping, and basically all that snobbery!"

She said this, not without a touch of pointed laughter.

He thought of the lavish parties they'd attended when he was a child before the war came, how he'd been a young boy, stuffed into an itchy, scratchy black suit with tie and carted to the Joule's where he'd met a raging, six-year old Yzak who bit him, how he'd been to Nicol Amalfi's fifth birthday and made friends with him almost immediately, how he'd been introduced to a five-year old Lacus Clyne in a mansion not unlike the Zala's, the dresses the women wore, the jewels they bore on their hair and necks, their fingers weighed down by rings that blinded him as the young boy bent to kiss their hands as the protocol was, the hearty laughs of the handsome men in their suits that he knew were uncomfortable, their boasting of their successes as they drank from glass so fine it looked like crystallized air, and his father, proudly showing him off, the way he carried Athrun on his shoulders, his beautiful mother laughing helplessly at their antics, all before the war, all before she'd gone and left them behind-

"Athrun!" Meyrin said loudly and quite indignantly, "I've been saying that you should tell Cagalli, since you know earlier, it's better if you can let her know too. It's sooner or later that the invitations are sent out and the media gets wind of this, so maybe you and break the information to her first. Like I said, if you can get a headstart with her, you can decided what to wear before others do."

"What did you say?" He said a bit absently, writing the same sentence on his work for the sixth time as she sat in the chair next to him and shook her head at his lack of focus.

When had it become a sort of routine? He'd pack up and go home after work each day, and she'd come over for dinner, bearing something to add on to his meals and they'd do their work at the same table like siblings who tried to do homework after dinner under the warm light of the dinner table. She always chose the chair at the side and he always say adjacent, it'd become a sort of habit by now.

And he'd realized that her company was welcome and so had Meyrin, and that was good enough for either of them. For her, it was like being with an old friend she loved and trusted completely, for him, it was a distraction from emptiness, a cut of the hours spent thinking of morose thoughts, and a diversion to loneliness.

"Tell Cagalli!" She repeated impatiently, stacking her work in a neat pile. He stared, dismayed inside but inscrutable on the surface, and it fooled Meyrin well, he supposed, she hardly gave him a second glance.

"Right," Athrun said calmly, "I'll tell her in out next call."

"Ask her to wear something really spectacular," Meyrin was telling him excitedly, like those enthusiastic puppies he'd seen scorching and biting and barking in a window of a pet shop, "It's supposed to be a fancy dress ball of sorts, only we know that PLANT's going to be watching with the rest of the world, it's a very glitzy thing, isn't it? Barty mentioned so, at least that what the event organizers are keen on, so she'll need a matching outfit and that sort of thing."

His heart sank even as he listened. Of course the Commander Yamato and Mediator Clyne would be present; they were key figures in ZAFT, if not Lacus, then at least Kira. And if he went, she was expected to turn up, weren't they? And they'd ask, 'Where's Cagalli?"

If they were there and Athrun was expected to be, along with the media hounding everyone and anyone present at the gala, then she would have to come along-

"Are you going, Meyrin?" He asked distractedly, and she nodded obligingly and said unenviously, "Although I don't have a date, I'm going, as Barty's assistant, but then that's what they expect anyway."

An opportune moment to digress from his new antagonizing agent presented, and he struck immediately.

"I'm sure the men at work would pay anything to bring you with them," He said sincerely, "You haven't declined?"

She was touched at his kindness and warmth, and the colour rose in her cheeks, staining them prettily, "No, like I said, this is still under wraps, you're the first person I'm telling of the upcoming event. Barty'd kill me if he knew I was telling you, he wants to be the one who announces it next week."

They both grinned even though Athrun's heart was sinking. He would have to speak to Cagalli soon, either they told the world that they were separated by next week, or it would be havoc.

"I'm going dressed as Alice from Wonderland," Meyrin piped up, "Because Bonita wanted to be a rabbit, although she's distinctively female and not suffering from a nervous breakdown and a lack of pants to go with the striped waistcoat."

Athrun smiled weakly, he was too wrought with thoughts of speaking to her, he hadn't spoken to Cagalli for what, slightly more than half a year? And attire was the least of his worries; would she refuse to even speak to him? If he went through Kisaka, she wouldn't dare refuse, but if they were planning to break the news then it wouldn't matter, would it? And-

"Barty's going as the Mad Hatter," Meyrin rattled away, "My sister doesn't know about the event yet, but I suppose she'd like to go as something boyish and adventure-orientated, maybe those heroines with guns, oh wait, she already is considered one of those, after the war she was pretty well-known, I don't think-,"

He wasn't listening, he was envisioning Cagalli sitting in front of him, stiff and wooden in a chair, in front of the sofa he had been reclining on, her eyes shining suspiciously, and hearing the pain in her voice as she forced an, "I want out."

He wasn't hearing what Meyrin was saying about Lacus probably being the most outstanding at the ball, he was replaying the fights they had, and on that night, the way she had shivered under his touch, helplessly but unwillingly, the way their voices hadn't been shouting but filled with quiet anger and cold seething rage for each other, the way she had trembled as his hands led, no, forced her to dance for him, the way their attraction for each other had been so apparent and so forgone and she fled from him, and the way he had forced her into his arms to clean the wound on her knee, kissed her, tasting her and tasting the alcohol on her lips as she sobbed brokenly-

"You know," he said finally, "I may not even turn up."

"You can't," she gaped, "They'll be expecting you and the Princess, or er- Supreme Commander of ORB!"

"We'll see," Athrun said tightly, "Maybe our schedules will clash with the night on the event."

"You make it sound as if you want it to," Meyrin murmured dejectedly, "And to think that Barty and our colleagues were planning so hard for this, and to have this-,"

She looked quite miserable at his lack of interest, and he felt sorry for her, she was alike a little sister to be placated, and he softened his tone and spoke up as if to make up for his earlier words, "We'll try our best then."

He was pleased to see her eyes lighting up, electric blue and very vivid in her face, and he wondered who the hell he was lying to.

Even a month ago, when she had came over to his place at midnight, feverish, slightly delirious and weakened by the flu, he had taken her in, given up his bed for Meyrin, and sat by the bed making sure she was fine and hearing her breathe as she slept.

Just like the way he had for Cagalli.

He had allowed himself to stroke Meyrin's cheeks, imagining that the red strands were the thick gold of another's head, muttered comforting things to her, watched her chest rise and fall peacefully in her slumber and saw only Cagalli. In the darkness, it was easy to see this. In the night with the influence of alcohol that was only starting to ebb off slightly, it was easy to indulge in memories, happier memories, lost memories, and to remember who he loved the most.

And when he finally knew that Meyrin was truly and well asleep, he stumbled to the couch and drifted off with dreams that haunted him, cursing his mistakes, her stubbornness, his pride, everything that had brought them together and tore them apart again.

Two days later, he got home early and sat down at the phone.

And his fingers dialed a number he knew by heart, and he found, to his astonishment, his voice saying firmly and very authoritatively, "I request the call to be put to the Supreme Commander of ORB."

"Good to hear your voice, sonny," Kisaka's burly one was exclaiming, "I tell you, she's been working herself to the bone, she thinks I don't know but I didn't spend eighteen years of my life looking after Cagalli Yula Atha for nothing! Oh and" He paused curiously, "Why didn't you call her directly? Haven't you been doing this for the past half year?"

He detected a trace of slight suspicion in Kisaka's voice and said, a little bit curtly, "Her phone's off, and I can't wait."

'Please just put me to her,' He pleaded silently.

"Fine," Kisaka said expectantly, the slight quirk in his voice gone, "I'll put you to her, and she's at her desk this very minute doing you-know-what."

He gratefully accepted the silence and slight whirring that proceeded, any minute more of reporting to Kisaka would have driven him insane, and the whirring was still going on, and the slight buzzing, long-distance calls were always like this, and his heart was beating very fast, moving into a sort of frenzy and then-

"Yes?"

"Cagalli," Athrun said softly, "It's me."

There was a pause and then a strange gulp they could both feel although they were well aware that he could not hear her tremor. His voice sent a jolt down her spine, as if rediscovering something she knew all along, wanted to hear all along, needed to feel in her own blood.

"Can you hear?" He asked tensely, for lack of better options.

He was trying not to imagine her sitting in her chair, her elbows off the table, her amber eyes flickering with suspicion and her fists clenched.

"Quite clearly," she answered hesitantly, glancing around, her office was empty, Rainie was somewhere outside, Kisaka had been busy with something for the whole day, nobody had told her that the incoming call was from, well, Athrun.

"I need to tell you-," He began, and then he paused, grateful that she did not jump on him to force him to continue immediately. Athrun didn't realize that her heart was thumping so loudly that she was afraid that if she opened her mouth, the sound would somehow transfer through and whiz through for him to realize the effect he still had on her. She wondered if she hadn't woken up and was still dreaming.

"That there's an event coming up next month," Athrun continued eventually, "I was told earlier, and the actual official announcement for the key political and military members of the three powers will come next week."

The implication hung in the air like a fine spray of mustard, unbearable but difficult to grasp onto to eradicate either.

"There are two options," she heard him saying slowly, "We can either announce our separation this week, or after the event. It's not official, I still have the papers with me-"

He trailed off again, he had them locked in a drawer, untouched. But wasn't that expected?

"But if we announce this, it will be made official, quite inevitably," Athrun concluded. The phone felt clammy in his hands, and his heart felt like it was being stabbed with every word. Little did he realize that even in her frozen state, Cagalli was experiencing the same.

She licked her lips and forced out, "No, I- I think we'll talk about the official terms after, I'd rather keep it under wraps for now, there's too much going on, and if the ball's in PLANT, I'll come over a day before and-,"

Her weak voice reminded her that she was rambling, she didn't know what to do, now that he was willing and able to make her wish official and fulfilled. Or was it really her wish?

She knew the danger signals, her fingers were starting to tremble and she pressed on determinedly, "Thank you for the information. I'll make the arrangements and we'll carry this through as best as we can, as normally as possible, and I'll get over to PLANT a day before the event to discuss the details- soon."

The last word felt like someone had broken her arm and twisted it into a pulp.

The phone went dead, and Athrun slowly put it into its stationary position. So they had decided, and he would soon see her.

"Not soon enough," he found himself thinking sadly, "Not soon enough."


	24. Chapter 24

Disclaimer: I own nothing of GS/GSD. R&R Please.

* * *

Chapter 24 

Cagalli wracked her brain, desperately trying to think of something to say.

She could comment about the weather, it was a glorious day, azure skies that reminded her of Lacus's gaze, thick white clouds that mimicked the veil of a bride strewn over a calm face, and the strong breeze that she would have felt better if Athrun had unwound the windows of the car.

But she was thankful he didn't, they both didn't like to be gawked at, and she didn't feel quite up to waving to the PLANT citizens in Aprilius, it was far too removed from her ways, and she instinctively knew that Athrun felt exactly the same.

She could comment on how well he looked, and this would have been somewhat of a lie, because she hadn't exactly looked at him, and while he seemed to be fine from far, impeccably dressed, composed as always, she knew there was something simmering underneath.

She could comment on how excited PLANT was for this event, and it would have been the unpleasant truth, unpleasant for both of them, for the anticipation was highly lacking in either.

The newspaper reports and the gossip column, especially, had been showing the gowns on the runways that were being pushed to the people and the various guests of the soon-to-be-held event. It was highly glamorous, the ZAFT ambassador was reportedly going as the Mad Hatter, and it made Cagalli curious to know what his assistant, Meyrin Hawke, would turn up as.

There were rumours that an internationally renowned designer was dressing Lacus Clyne, and since then, Cagalli had read about an influx of similarly acclaimed designers pushing their work to the other guests, to see and to be seen at the event. Heck, she was getting calls from these designers herself, and she politely declined all after she had received the first who had called. Now, she was regretting it, he had wanted to jet over to PLANT on the day of the ball itself to dress her.

"Dress me?" She stuttered, clutching the phone like it was an atomic bomb that would activate the minute she let go.

"And Chairman Zala," the man exclaimed in a thick accent she couldn't quite place, maybe Italian or something, she concluded dubiously, "And your measurements and his will be perfect."

He rolled his 'r's so much, she thought he was having a seizure.

"We'll see," she had said helplessly.

Athrun was now dressed in a well-tailored ash suit, formal like her ORB uniform, but without the tie and his shirt slightly unbuttoned to facilitate the weather. She caught herself admiring him and muttered, 'Damn you.'

He didn't hear her, and if he did, he chose not to reply.

So she remained silent and hugged her bag. She noticed in the review mirror, that the security car behind was following closely but not too conspicuously. It wouldn't do to appear like the mafia, she reminded herself, and smiled sheepishly to nobody in particular.

Periodically, she took glances in secret at her- well, not exactly husband, but she didn't know what to think of him as now. They were still officially married, Cagalli thought wistfully, and yet-

"How have you been?" She said shyly, looking at the dashboard and still holding her things protectively. His green eyes shot to the review mirror, and she felt strangely uncomfortable and ill at ease, even more so that he was looking at her reflection and not at her.

"Fine," He said politely, a bit stiffly, "And you?"

She echoed his reply, "Fine."

The awkwardness lingered blissfully even after her monosyllabic answer was given, and he kept silent and she looked more shy than ever.

When she had boarded for PLANT, she had been a wreck inside, so much so that she was glad that Kisaka had dealt with everything she needed, she might have messed it up otherwise. On the shuttle, she had nearly wanted to run to the captain and tell him to head back to ORB, but she was strapped in her seat and her eyes were glazed with memories and regrets. And those were the most sickening, regrets.

When she had arrived, there were people who stopped to stare and point at the Supreme Commander of ORB and the smartly-dressed bodyguards behind her. Rainie was the only one who didn't wear dark shades, she said they got in her face, and so people stared at the very young girl who was looking remarkably well-versed with the rather stern looking, elder bodyguards. Kisaka told her to relax, he would be here only for a few hours to see to things and then he'd get back to ORB to manage it on her behalf, since most of the cabinet was with her now for the event.

Cagalli had smiled reservedly at the PLANT citizens who ogled and waved spiritedly at her. It was only expected, many famous people were arriving as well, and one had been on the same shuttle as her, the PLANT ambassador to ORB, a distinguished young man who tried to make conversation while they were on the trip, until her polite replies made him slightly perturbed at her lack of interest in anything he said.

When she had stepped out and cleared the checks and the people who stopped to try and speak to her, her heart started its gain of speed, and she was afraid that people would notice her clammy hands and her clenched fists. Athrun was waiting for her with two bodyguards from PLANT headquarters, and she realized that they'd gotten wind of her coming and assumed he'd come to fetch her and sent two people to accompany him even though he was perfectly capable of handling himself and guns.

He had been standing near the car with shades, and people didn't stare so much because they couldn't really see his face. But she had stopped a bit and known, straightaway, that it was him. But she couldn't run to him and throw her arms around him like she might have done once, because they were in public and more significantly, they were separated.

He had seen her, immediately taken off his shades and approached her, but with a slight hesitation in his step, but they'd hugged for somebody's sake, they weren't sure who, their or the small crowds of Coordinators who had gathered to cheer around them, and she realized as his arms encircled her back and waist, how much she'd missed this. They didn't kiss although he politely touched her cheek for the sake of the people who were watching, and she gritted her teeth and smiled painfully. It must have been apparent, for his eyebrows proceeded to shoot to his hairline but he hid it reasonably well.

But he pulled her into the car a second later and the bodyguards milled into the second one and they'd been on the road ever since. It was easy to let the purr of the engine do the talking, but this couldn't continue. Not if they were to stage their act successfully until it was time for the truth to be told.

"Where are you taking us?" She asked hesitantly, wondering if she would dare give a penny for his thoughts. Cagalli didn't know what he was thinking, but she rarely did when he had the inscrutable mask put into place on his handsome face. It hurt her little that he was treating her in this way, but she didn't suppose it could be helped, after all, she initiated the separation.

'At least neither of us will be hurt anymore than what we've been already,' she told herself firmly, and felt a little more controlled.

Athrun cleared a light and replied, "Kira and Lacus want to meet us for lunch."

There was a slight apprehension in his voice.

"Oh," she said numbly, "I haven't told them about-," she looked at her hands, clenched in her lap, "-us, have you?"

He looked distinctively hurt under the cold glaze of his eyes and firm set line of his jaw, at least he had taken off his shades for her sake, "I haven't. We'll have to hold through this then. Just be- normal."

"Alright," she acceded softly, "And Athrun?"

She paused, looking quietly at him as he moved into the driveway and the car behind them moved along the road to watch from a respectful distance. He finished the parking in the spacious lot that was adjacent to Kira's residence, and looked at her, suddenly wishing he hadn't. He hadn't looked much at her for the entire time, when they'd met at the shuttle grounds, when he'd driven, when they'd embraced, by his force of habit, admittedly, he had avoided her eye, knowing that she was doing the same. And now, seeing Cagalli full in the face, remembering the features he had tried to forget for half a year and slightly more, it was a punch in his face that he loved her, damn it, he did.

"What is it?" He asked, wondering why his voice was so husky and suddenly realising the reason was sitting next to him in his car.

"I'm- I'm sorry," she told him quietly, "I should have told you-,"

Her voice faltered and she looked dismayed at her failure. A thousand thoughts ran through his mind, perhaps she was trying to tell him that she should have told him that it was a mistake on both their parts, she never meant for them to be separated, it was just a matter of wrongs judgment on that day, a matter of overwhelming feelings, and that she wanted him back with her-

He leant forward, close enough for him to capture her breath with his lips, and then she looked away and concluded, "I should have told you about the separation I wanted in a more tactful way."

She failed to notice the way he had leant in, she was too captured in her own thoughts and Athrun wanted to slap her silly so she would notice, but nevermind, he thought furiously, if that was just it then he'd-

Something twisted in him and he turned away, just as she did, and the moment was badly shaken. 'So that's it?' His mind was shouting in a futile rage, 'So that's just it?'

"I admit I was badly affected," he said coldly, "But I never expect anything more of tact from you."

Wondering if he had meant to hurt her, she stared blindly, trying not to feel like something was being ripped and ripped again in her gut, but he was still courteous although decidedly cold. He got out and helped her out, taking her hand a gentleman would have, and leading her into the house where Kira and Lacus were waiting to receive them.

And Cagalli spotted Lacus, promptly pulled her hand out of Athrun's, not quite noticing a 'hey' that had nearly torn itself from his lips, and she raced to embrace Lacus, who giggled and bear-hugged her. They were like little girls talking excitedly, and Kira came out and more leisurely, shook hands with his best friend, the other hand occupied with balancing a toddler on his back.

"We've been waiting," Lacus announced cheerfully, coming from the front and bringing them in, "It's timely that ZAFT decided to hold this event, although it's been a whirlwind of activity for the past month because of it. I'm glad neither of us have been included in the planning."

She was as attractive as ever, perhaps even more so after experiencing motherhood. Her dress was a pretty checked gingham with strawberries printed on the cotton edges, and Kira seemed to complement this with his loose, cream-coloured shirt and casual pants. Cagalli stared at them, her brother and her friend, and felt a welling of tears in her eyes, but forced it down. She had been so tempted to run to tell Lacus everything about what had happened, but pride and love of her independence had prevented it. It wouldn't do to break down here in front of Lacus, she told herself angrily, they'd wonder what the hell was wrong with you.

"It's fine to see both of you," Athrun said sincerely, looking at Kira and Leon. The latter was dressed in an orange overalls which were a little too big but added to his waifish charm, and Leon was gurgling and looking at Athrun with huge blue eyes and a shock of chocolate hair that highly resembled Kira's, all the while sucking his thumb, and Kira noticed this and gently removed it, the child still perched on his back.

"Aren't you going to greet your Uncle and Aunt?" Kira asked gently, his eyes focused on the toddler.

And Leon shook his head but said in the childish fashion toddlers were so accustomed to, but only with more eloqeunce, "Don't know how."

"Don't call me uncle," Athrun grinned, "Avuncular terms don't suit me well. And Leon, how old are you?"

"Three!" The boy exclaimed proudly, "I can walk already!"

"Then why'd you ask me to carry you?" Kira asked teasingly, bouncing the boy until he whooped with glee and bubbled over with laughter, accompanying the grown-ups' own laughter.

"Tired of walking," Leon said easily, and slumped over, his tiny fists grabbing Kira's hair like the reins of a pony. Kira chuckled indulgently, and Athrun thought how much fatherhood suited him, although it looked somewhat like an elder brother and his baby sibling.

"Lunch awaits," someone called from behind, and they turned to see a plump, cosy househelp at the doorway, beaming. Leon somehow slid down his father's shoulders like a slid, and Kira scarcely seemed to notice. 'Habit?' Athrun thought dryly.

And the child, unnoticed by everyone except Athrun, ran to Cagalli and gazed up at her.

Preoccupied, the rest of them grinned at the house help, and Athrun inquired about her, resulting in Kira explaining briefly, "She's a part-time help we brought in to help with Leon as well, and Leon adores her. She was livid when a woman from the paparazzi managed to sneak in and get a lock of Leon's hair to sell as memorabilia, she got hold of the offender and threatened to shave her bald if she tried that sort of rubbish. So you can see," he smiled at Lacus who was introducing the housekeeper to Cagalli graciously, "She's invaluable."

'I wonder what she's like with a gun,' Athrun found himself thinking wryly.

"Oh," Cagalli interrupted in wonder, "He looks like Kira."

They all turned around to see her bouncing the three-year-old on her knee, and Leon was laughing and talking to her deliriously and hugging her for balance. She cuddled him and he buried his head in her chest lovingly like a puppy that knew it was loved. And a shard of jealousy and pain barbed like wire around Athrun, if only that hadn't happened, she would be with him, with their child, like this, forever.

"Enough with the playing," Lacus commanded sweetly, "I insist we sit down properly to partake of the meal, lest you two leave without staying long enough."

And Cagalli reluctantly let go of the child and Leon looked a bit woebegone, but he ran after her and tried to climb in the seat next to hers before Kira picked him off so Athrun could sit. And Lacus kept laughing and telling Kira that his son would be a Casanova of sorts. Cagalli scowled, but Athrun knew she was pleased, and his heart ached more than ever.

It was uncomfortable to be sitting next to her when he hadn't even seen her for a half a year and more, and unfortunately, Lacus noticed it. If Kira did, he remained silent. And it was highly disconcerting.

It first manifested when Lacus requested that they pass her the water jug. Cagalli reached for it, along with Athrun, where it had sat comfortably between them, and her hand ended up on his. She recoiled and Athrun nearly dropped the jug.

Stunned, Lacus stared at them. "What's going on?"

Cagalli glared at her fork and Athrun looked awkward, "Nothing," she said eventually.

Kira chewed thoughtfully, his eyes sharp but his mouth occupied with food.

The second time, Lacus asked sweetly, daintily dabbing her lips with a napkin, "Are you planning to go out together after this to see Aprilius?"

"Not with him," Cagalli said without thinking, spearing something with her fork, and Athrun involuntarily dropped his own with a bit of a clatter.

And Lacus stared in shock.

Kira was carefully feeding Leon and continued doing so while simulating 'ahs,' and 'open wide'. His eyes were a bit narrowed.

"What I meant," Cagalli corrected hurriedly, "Was not with-out Athrun, I can hardly imagine what came over me."

"Neither can I," Athrun said drily.

Lacus' eyebrows shot up and she stared, wide-eyed.

Kira drank some water silently. His eyes were almost violet slits.

"In any case," Lacus asked demurely, recovering from some of the strange nature of the situation, "How's it been with both of you apart for so long?"

"Manageable," Athrun answered swiftly before Cagalli could foil things more, "There's the phone, letters, and the odd proposals at work we get with the other's name signed on it. If you have a good imagination, it helps."

'Liar,' His mind grinned and he muttered a shut up to himself.

"Right," Cagalli said, catching on quickly enough, "I miss him though."

The sincerity in her voice and the slight shyness of her eyes made Lacus smile gently and Athrun feel slightly more at ease, although he wondered if she was warming up to the act they were putting on, or she was truly sincere. He reached for a napkin and unwittingly, so did she, and they ended up in the same situation as before and he recoiled this time, dropping the napkin entirely, and he cursed inwardly at their lack of impromptu acting skills.

Lacus was staring again.

Kira was shuffling the vegetables on Leon's plate to make them look more appetizing even though they were exactly the same Brussels sprouts and mashed peas.

"Er," Cagalli said awkwardly, putting her hand down on the table, "I-,"

So Athrun seized the moment and clasped his hand above hers, holding it entirely.

'Don't recoil,' He prayed desperately, hoping his thoughts would reach her, 'Don't bloody recoil.'

Thankfully, she didn't, and Lacus smiled at their display of affection and proceeded to tell Kira, "They've been missing each other dearly."

"Sure," Kira said absently, playing with his own vegetables, "But no matter, there's the upcoming event, they'll be with each other for the entire time and then at the end of the year, the arrangements will be finished and Athrun can get back to ORB and Cagalli."

This time, both of them were carefully minding Leon who was trying to dump his vegetables on Lacus' plate when she wasn't looking. They declined comment.

"What will you be dressing as?" Athrun suddenly said to Kira, realizing he couldn't very well turn up in his white commander uniform when the invitation so specifically stated otherwise.

"A Japanese merchant," Kira answered thoughtfully, patting Leon's head and ignoring the boy's pleas that he couldn't finish his vegetables, "I need to borrow sandals, I think, I'm not sure if Lacus' eager helper provides those."

"And you, Lacus?" Cagalli asked unsurely, not keen to discuss their marital affairs if possible, "What are you going as?"

"Secret," Lacus said girlishly, "Not mine, but the designer's. He supplied everything for both of us but we can't reveal what it is because Du Maurier is not keen to have others copying his ideas. He's dressing Madame Sutherland for the opera, and a few other couture designers tried to copy him. He was telling me how livid he was, but I didn't really understand his French."

"Trust me," Athrun said pointedly, "The other designers who have offered to dress the politicians are doing the same, so it doesn't really matter. And besides," He grinned bemusedly at the unruffled Kira, "Your husband's let the cat out of the bag. I can guess what you're going as Lacus."

"Something of that nature too?" Cagalli guessed in wonder.

"Perceptive," Lacus replied chuckling, "Or you have a designer who's offered to supply both of you matching attires?"

"Yes," the latter two said in unison, "But I declined."

"What are we going to do now?" They asked each other at the same time, and blushed at their synchronized words. Lacus laughed merrily and said obligingly, "I can call Du Maurier, he's got at least twelve options that he tried to force us to go through, Kira and I just picked the first one we saw."

"In fact," Athrun said guiltily, "I haven't randomly picked anything yet; I'm not sure about Cagalli myself."

"I brought a normal gown," she told them sheepishly, "I didn't think about it much. Kisaka told me it's a huge event and the media expects something grand out of this, but I'm not sure if I'm up to it. Like I said, I didn't think much about it."

"She was thinking about me more," Athrun said nastily, for his revenge, "The dress is nothing compared to me."

She looked horrified and then she recovered and snarled, "Vice versa, he was too preoccupied with thoughts of me."

He glared at her, not too overtly in case Kira and Lacus realized it wasn't exactly a joke, and proceeded to kiss her on her cheek because he knew it would make her uncomfortable in front of her brother and Lacus.

She squirmed and Lacus, who was looking at Kira, didn't notice.

"Look how loving they are," she said jovially to Kira, "I wouldn't have thought of it! And I certainly wouldn't have imagined anything like this either!"

"Really?" Athrun retorted in mock surprise, caught in the childish although private spat he and Cagalli were engaged in, "Have you imagined anything like this?"

He caught Cagalli full on the lips, his fingers forcing her face towards him as he bent down.

Kira smiled calmly, Lacus giggled, Leon sulked about his vegetables, and Cagalli blushed like a badly bruised tomato. When he broke away, she hit him on the arm and said angrily, "What was that for?"

"For everything you've done to me," He concluded genially, enjoying the kiss he had stolen but relishing her discomfort even more.

"You mean, 'done for me' and not 'done to me', don't you?" Lacus said curiously.

They were both silent, eagerly avoiding each other's eye.

"No," Athrun concluded darkly, 'I meant exactly and precisely what I said, that was for everything you've done to me."


	25. Chapter 25

Disclaimer: I own nothing of GS/GSD. R&R Please.

* * *

Chapter 25 

The minute they left Kira's residence, Leon looking a bit lost now that his newest playmate was going off; Cagalli turned to Athrun and said furiously, "That went well!"

"I thought it did," he said smilingly and mockingly, reversing out of the way and driving off while waving a bit to Kira. The bodyguards had been instructed to head back the headquarters until the schedule called for them, Athrun Zala was perfectly able to protect himself and her if necessary.

"No," Cagalli shot back, upset, "I mean it went swimmingly badly!"

"Which bit?" He asked infuriatingly, concentrating on the road ahead even though he would have liked to stare at her chest, heaving slightly in her rage. Of course she didn't notice.

"Everything!" She cried, grabbing a fistful of her golden hair and looking as if she were threatening to pull it out forcefully, "Everything! And it's your fault!"

"Really?" He said carefully, lancing the boil accurately, "I never noticed."

She pulled a fistful of her hair in her hands and chewed her lip, biting them white first, then pink, and something coiled and sprung in him, almost with a twang he could hear, and he pulled into an unused slot where nobody would see into the darkened windows or hustle them to move the car along. And he let go of the steering wheel and turned to Cagalli who looked like she was ready to kill something, probably him.

"If you want your hair pulled and your lips bitten," He said in a low voice, "Let me do it."

He seized her hungrily, barely hearing her gasp of surprise and proceeded to run his hands through her hair, running his fingers in it and busily capturing her lips with his own and biting slightly the way he had promised to, teasing her lower lip and fighting for control. She was mewling in distress and trying to avoid his lips, but it was a feat in the constraint and difficult to strain against her own will. Struggling with her slightly, he snarled and managed to push away her hair and reached the area shielded behind the tip of her ear, and pressed his lips to it in a frenzy of possesiveness, and she stiffened and then quietened like a charm. And slowly, his touch morphed into a less insane, less frenzied burning and softened into a languorous sort of want, and yet, all the same, it was dangerous. But he let go as soon as she was ready to respond, and she turned her head away so he wouldn't see what her eyes held. He could have laughed with triumph, she was as proud as always.

"Come now," He said persuasively, unimaginably soft but so clearly that she shivered, his voice was produced in her blood, "You know what you felt."

"I don't," She retorted rebelliously, barely noticing him straightening back and adjusting the belt for them to return to their journey. She had to clamp her lips together to keep from panting and she was uncomfortably aware that he knew this.

"If you say so," he said derisively, "It's like you to deny things."

"Are you calling me a coward?" She said, flaring up immediately. Her eyes were narrowed like a cat's and he would have liked to lean closer again, but knew inside that they both could not afford a gamble with stakes as high as that.

He paused and looked at her flashing amber eyes and swollen lips, admiring his handiwork in silence, "No. You're only delusional."

"I am not," She insisted, even though she knew he was probably right, all those nights of trying to forget and the times when she had ached to try and stop missing him. Those hadn't worked, but she had still fought on, hadn't she?

"If you say so," he repeated listlessly, "And now, where do you want to go?"

"Anywhere's fine," she said hatefully and with childish pique, "As long as you're not being too aggravating."

He ignored her last remark, he was too old, wise and scarred by the pains she had wrought onto him to take heed to her, and drove them to the city square where they alighted. When he opened the door for her, she marched out without looking at him, and he smiled wanly to himself. Just like her to be defensive when she didn't know what to do with herself. He knew her very well, Athrun realised, except for the one time he had made a fatal mistake and the wrong judgment.

People stared as they walked the streets in silence, and then he suddenly took ahold of her hand and she fought silently to free it and when she failed, she hissed, "Let go! We've separated, haven't we?"

Some schoolgirls stopped to point and titter, like birds that had gotten hold of a juicy worm of gossip. He caught strains of distant, ignorant words like 'fairytale,', 'Princess and knight,' and he felt almost bitter. But not quite.

"To the people we haven't," He answered back quietly, and smiled cordially at a passerby who stared in awe at them.

'And not to me.'

He eventually felt her hand relax in his although he highly doubted that would have been the case if his last thought had been verbalized. She was stubborn, had a streak of pride and overbearing responsibility for all decisions she made, and he knew exactly why. He would never forgive her for that. He felt like punishing her for it, but her discomfort would only lead to his. Cagalli may never have realised this, but he had, a long time ago.

When he had been cold to her and marched off without much of a word when he had sneaked off from the Archangel to meet Kira, her and Mirallia, his heart had ached at the sight of her wide eyes and blush, both he had forgone, too angered by her betrayal and marriage to Yuna. She had stared at his retreating back, but he hadn't turned around to forgive her, he hadn't even wanted to give her an opportunity to apologise for her betrayal. And then he had been snappish with almost everyone for the rest of the day. And now-

"We're a normal couple out on the streets," he recited calmly to her, knowing only she would be able to hear him, "I'm Athrun Zala and you're my wife. Keep with it."

"Easy for you to say," She scowled very quietly, "You know what the people here are like, they ogle at you because you're well-known and you're used to staging this."

"You should be too," he said in amusement, right into her ear, enjoying her silent squirming and the tenseness he measured with the tightness in her arm, "You're not exactly not famous, being the Supreme Commander of ORB and all. I can bet you, the only reason why the crowds don't really bother us is because they think there are bodyguards hidden somewhere behind us at this stage. And remember the appearance of the gun a few years back then?"

"Thornier," she whispered to him, and he smiled and replied quietly, "Yes, well, the public is likely to assume that both of us would have stepped up on security after that sort of incident, and we have, just that we're relying on that assumption to make them think there are bodyguards hiding in the crowd to trail after us, which is entirely not true at this point."

In spite of herself and the man she was supposed to be distanced from, Cagalli found herself smiling at him. He was too wonderful a companion, she supposed, witty and intelligent. It was his fault, she told herself sternly.

He was strangely silent after that, just holding her hand and walking quietly by her side.

'What I wouldn't I give for us to stay-," She started to think, but shook her head hurriedly, the danger signals were going off in her head, spinning very quickly.

Athrun watched her quietly, "Are you alright?"

"Fine," she answered speedily, "I just wondered which hotel Kisaka arranged for me tonight."

"None," Athrun said leisurely, passing by a newspaper stand and staring at a picture of the theatre and behemoth hall the event would be held in a day from then, "I told him we had a house in December."

Flashes of the portraits hanging on the walls, their eyes cold and their expressions haughty, nary a smile, Patrick Zala staring at her with something like disdain in his eyes, the room she was in, the bed with her blood on it, the phone she was holding in her hands before she cried and fainted, and voices she didn't recognise, people lifting her body, a mass of moving pain, onto something she knew was a stretcher-

"You did?" She echoed in dismay, not seeing what he was staring at, "But I-,"

"Bear with it," he said quietly, holding her hand between them and looking at her, "It belongs to you, you don't have to sleep in that room anymore, and I've prepared the others, all, in fact, so you'll choose anyone you want."

She nodded, understanding. It would have been hell to nestle in a bed she had lost her child to, to recall the haze and the blood and the pain. Anything but that room.

And Cagalli suddenly thought of something. If Athrun had done this to fool Kisaka as well, then-

"Are you coming with me?" She asked shyly, not really looking at Athrun anymore.

His eyes widened momentarily, but he recovered and answered steadily enough, "The house belongs to you."

"It doesn't," she said, not understanding what he meant.

"When we married," he explained quietly, "I transferred the rights to you, don't you recall?"

A flash of memory, he handing her something to sign while she was ruffled and not quite knowing what he was up to, and then he smiling and telling her it was hers-

"No," she said, horrified at the thought of her robbing him of his rightful things, "I don't, I can't have it, I-,"

"Even when we are officially apart," he said evenly, and a pang of regret hit him hard, "I want you to hold onto it."

And he refused to hear otherwise.

In the end, she turned to him and told him reluctantly, "Won't you come?

"I will if you invite me," he said politely, but with a hint of teasing and suggestiveness in his voice. His green eyes were slightly shielded by his lashes, and she thought of something and blushed angrily, irritated with him and herself.

But he was waiting, and forgetting her reservations, she nodded eagerly and then remembered her resolution and ended up saying hesitantly, "But this is only for the- the pretence."

"I know," he said soberly. The moment was lost again, but it was for the better, Cagalli thought decidedly.

All the same, when they reached the house in December with a few of their belongings, just enough for one night, a delicious thrill ran through the air. The house was airy, beautiful and well-cleaned, Cagalli noticed, so Athrun had gotten efficient managers of the property then.

She avoided a certain corridor, and Athrun knew the pain that went though her, because he felt it in him as well. But he was good to decline comment until she had selected a room for a stay in the night and he had done the same, a separate one.

The unspoken regret hung heavily in the air, but they had to leave it at that. Being on talking terms was something good enough for now, Athrun tried to say to himself, but all the same, the hollowness was painful.

They settled in front of the garden, not courageous enough to go out into the sun, but not homely enough to hide in a totally shaded area, therefore compromising by stretching their feet out into the warmth while the rest of them hid under the shade of a large red brick roof.

He observed her, taking in her face and features. She had taken off her uniform jacket to reveal a simple white cotton shirt underneath, admittedly form-fitting and hugging her a certain way, suddenly transforming her into a less intimidating presence now that she was in a simple shirt and a navy skirt of the uniform without her dark grey stockings, those rolled up, deposited in her heels and her heels wantonly thrown at the side, almost as if he had taken them off and thrown them carelessly to a side himself. She would have worn pants, she thought regretfully, but Kisaka had been in charge of the packing and he had casually left out some things. She would have to speak to him later.

And so she did not notice Athrun or what his eyes held, her own eyes comfortably closed as she enjoyed the breeze, Athrun observing her. And when she finally opened her eyes, he immediately raked them over something else.

"How's Meyrin?" She asked pleasantly enough, fully aware that they lived in the same vicinity, for Lacus had told her this and Cagalli herself had arranged for this right after the Second War.

"Good," Athrun said evenly, sitting in one of the fine old chairs as she curled up in another, "She's grown up since the last time I saw her, probably has all the men at work fighting to date her or something."

"Batholomew Robin?" Cagalli asked mischievously, recalling the freshly-scrubbed face of the young ambassador who was also Meyrin's superior. He had came to ORB once to deal with some administrative issues, and Kisaka had liked him immensely, 'Silly young pup' or not. He was genuinely kind and very spirited; Cagalli thought fondly, she herself liked his style.

"No indication," Athrun chuckled, "She doesn't let on anything when we have dinner."

"You have dinner with Meyrin?" Cagalli asked in surprise, and something like envy stabbed through her, although she did not register this immediately. Athrun watched her carefully and said after a pause, "Almost every night since a month ago when she came back from East Eurasia and happened to find out I was living in the compound."

"I see," was all Cagalli could say.

"She's a very pretty girl," Athrun offered cautiously, thinking of what his words would mean at that point, and he was watching Cagalli's face carefully, "And capable too. In fact, she's involved a lot with the event tomorrow since it's her department heading it, and she comes over to chat when we do work we brought back."

"That's good," Cagalli said with as much control as she could muster.

"Er," She continued hastily, trying to wipe her clammy palms inconspicuously behind her, "Do you like her?"

"Obviously," he replied in pretend surprise, "She's kind and quite unlike Lunamaria, who's very unpredictable, with Meyrin there's some calm in the place."

He watched her struggle with herself, feeling highly guilty at what he had led her to feel, but all the same, mightily pleased with her reaction. And he grinned and added on impassively, "She stayed over once when she had a fever; her flat mate was creating too much of a ruckus, and she was very sick then. So I gave her a few pills and she slept until the next morning."

"That's good," Cagalli said with some fake relief, "I was worried that-,"

He paused abruptly at her disability and asked, suddenly aware of something amiss, "How did you know she lived in the vicinity anyway? I don't ever recall telling you that even after the Second War."

She glanced at him and offered bravely, "I asked Lacus to give her a home after the Second War, and since she was your assistant then, I thought it'd be best if she lived near you, temporary housing or not. Besides, you were chairman of ETERNITY by then, and Meyrin defected in the war, so a bit of string-pulling would have helped."

He listened carefully, and grew tense.

"Do you mean to say," Athrun asked, his brow darkening, "That you knowingly arranged for Meyrin Hawke to be as near me as possible?"

"Athrun!" Cagalli exclaimed in distress, "Think of what you're saying!"

"Stop it," he demanded fiercely, "You know I'm not putting Meyrin Hawke down, I just want to know if even now, where I'm staying, was arranged for with the knowledge that Meyrin would be there to keep me company?"

She looked elsewhere until he shook her, demanding with his eyes.

"Yes," Cagalli admitted finally, "I was relieved to know that even when you left from ORB half a year ago, Meyrin would be near you. She's in love with you, Athrun," she said, looking at him mutely, "And she's always been."

"I suspected that but I've been ignoring it for forever," Athrun said, deathly grave, "I never imagined you would have done this to me."

His eyes were slits of emerald. And she shivered a little.

"I did nothing wrong," Cagalli insisted, pulling away, "At least she'll be good for you and you'll be happier when-,"

"Listen," he said angrily, forcing her to look at him in the face, "I'd hurt her more by letting her too near me, and you'd be at fault for that, you hear? She doesn't deserve something like that, and neither do you, so don't think of replacements for yourself."

She nodded mutely, shaken by his anger and denial that he could accept Meyrin.

"In any case," Athrun said finally, his voice was tight with a dark rage and his eyes were blackened, "You can force me to leave you but you cannot force me to be with another."

She turned away and asked insolently, "What if I choose to be with another?"

His breath hitched, and she wondered why she'd even asked a question like that. It was physically impossible and entirely ridiculous, but she had shot off with her mouth and asked the impossible anyway.

There was a long silence and she looked at him. His eyes were closed as if he couldn't bear to let her see what lay in them, and his mouth was a line of pain. She immediately regretted what she'd said, she opened her mouth and offered awkwardly, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to say-,"

"I'd kill him," Athrun interrupted, sorrow erupting in his voice and his body, even in the hands that were upon her shoulders, "I'd kill him for both of us."

And she could tolerate the pain she was causing him no longer and sprang out of the chair, hugging him entirely as a mother who had wronged her child would, saying sincerely, "I'm sorry, I don't know why I asked that question."

His arms were slowly, luxuriously encircling her back and then drifting down to her waist, and Cagalli told him, "I never imagined anything like that, I just, I don't know what happened."

"It's fine," he assured her, suddenly forgetting that they weren't supposed to be like this, weren't supposed to be so close and so physically comforting to each other, "I didn't expect a question like that either, I-,"

He trailed off helplessly, and then she let go of him and sat back down, suddenly exhausted. He had collapsed into his own chair, looking at her but not really looking, and his mouth was still filled with pain. Her hands wanted to touch his lips to see if she could take it away, but she out them quickly in her pockets and shook her head to herself.

"We'll be fine even like this," she said firmly, "We'll be fine, you'll see. Like this, it's enough for both of us."

He nodded wanly, but all the same, he repeated with something like hatred to himself, "It isn't enough."

They spent the rest of the day resting and lounging, sprawled around the house, Athrun fixing a haro that Lacus claimed was going insane in its ripe old age, and Cagalli reading. The silence was a bit awkward even when the haro was well recovered enough to start telling Athrun off for being so careless with it in its loud, chirping voice, and Cagalli avoided him and eventually hid and cooped herself in the room she had previously chosen. And when evening came, he somehow managed to cook their dinner although he was none too skilled at cooking and neither was she, but she helped gratefully and took on whatever he needed help in. It was déjà vu, doing what they hadn't done for nearly more than half a year.

And they ate in silence and when they had both finished their showers and met each other coming out from the opposite ones, she reddened immensely and retreated quickly, muttering about leaving something back there. And he remained silent as he calmly dried off the droplets of water that remained on his bare chest.

When nightfall came, he laughed at the pajamas Lacus had loaned her once but eventually gave to her, very pale pink and strangely, with plump dragons breathing orange flames printed everywhere, and she scowled and he thought to himself how much he had missed her. The book he had been reading fell from his hands to his lap as he took in every detail of her, from her tiny feet in soft slippers to the fine golden lashes that framed liquid amber.

"Cagalli," He began awkwardly, "I feel as if-,"

"I'm tired," She cut in hurriedly, her eyes darting all over the place and she looked queer standing in front of his chair in those pajamas, and not being able to look at him properly, "I'll, 'll go and-,"

She trailed off and managed an awkward goodnight to him and left quickly, but he stayed up a little while more to read a book, and then when he finally grew tired, he got up very slowly, almost as if his bones ached, and set it down gently, then moved up the stairs, pausing outside her room, just listening, just hearing her breathe. And his feet dragged him to his own room, and frustrated, he sat down achingly carefully and then laid his body down completely, thinking vague thoughts and dreaming this time, of orange flames that licked and caressed his face and fingers.


	26. Chapter 26

Disclaimer: I own nothing of GS/GSD. R&R Please.

* * *

Chapter 26 

The evening drew near and PLANT was going mad with excitement. Those not invited, otherwise known as civilians, were in their homes, eagerly waiting for the live footage of the event to be aired on national television, and the guests of the event were getting ready in their own homes. If they weren't from PLANT and ZAFT, those invited who had been shuttled over from various regions in the world were now in their hotels where the world-class designers and dressers were carting in and out.

Athrun noticed a whole host of designers, either shouting shrilly for this to be done and that to be fixed or shouting at each other for snagging a certain key political figure and that sort of thing which basically screamed intense rivalry.

'At least they're comitted to their art,' He mumbled.

The cameras were being hauled out of hotels nineteen to a dozen per minute as the paparazzi tried to sneak them in. Mere minutes after Athrun arrived and fielded off dozens of question pertaining to the night, he felt as if he had finished a day of training with guns, exhaustive and very brain-dead. The only difference was that he was forced to keep cool, cologned, and very suave.

"Sir, where's the Princess?" one reporter asked eagerly.

"In Mediator Clyne's home," He told them politely, trying to move on, and they shouted with glee, scribbling down his short answer and another yelled, "She doesn't want you to spoil the surprise?"

"Far from it," Athrun said humorlessly, although he might have suspected that Lacus didn't want to spoil it for Kira, "I agreed to meet the world-renowned designed and haute couture specialist Demente Du Maurier here to accede his special request with Commander Kira Yamato and myself."

There you go, Du Maurier, Athrun thought dryly, I've given you all the publicity you need. The reporters were exploding with excitement and tried to ask more questions but he pushed past them with some help from the staff which had been roped in to assits the guests who were being dressed in this hotel, and proceeded on. Two of them were bodyguards the PLANT headquarters had assigned for him, and they were starting to get on his nerves. Not that they were incompetent or rude, they were just too eager to ask him about everything, from how many dates he had a year to how they could modify their pistols.

Car after car drove up and guest after guest was ushered in. It seemed ridiculous to Athrun that the designers all wanted to snub each other in the noses by personally bringing in the guests, fully knowing that the other designers were here with their respective patrons as well, effectively making the place a hellhole of reporters, califare, and slightly stiff guests like himself.

And Athrun looked at the French master of couture, or so he had introduced himself, and remarked, "Er, are those your helpers?"

The rather petite, slim-built man with a shock of grey hair, deep set wrinkles, electric, insanely-lit eyes in a pale face with very skilled, delicate hands whirled theatrically around to scrutinise the crowd of people around him. Two of them were holding combs and aruging which had a better texture, another pair was ironing something that looked like Kira's outfit, another was polishing some shoes and yet another pair was wiping something that looked suspiciously like a sword. The rest were holding out drinks and things like that, not for Athrun, but for Du Maurier as he pranced around screaming things in French.

"My entourage, yes," Du Maurier replied nonchalantly in his thickly-accented voice, "But for you they will be servants."

He bowed very low and Athrun wondered if he ought to do likewise. He was far too used to the salute, and he reckoned that would have been rather odd. Therefore he settled for a polite, somewhat stiff smile. After all, he could hardly move his torso in the chair he was seated in, with a large white linen cloth around his neck, let alone bow.

"Come now," Du Maurier shouted insanely, and Athrun wanted to stuff his fingers in his ears, this man was far too explosive and too queer for his liking, "It is the event of the cosmic century, is it not? Although if Chairman Zala had told me of your need for dressing," He looked displeased that Athrun had not, "I would have designed something for you and the Princess. Something outrageous, very magnifique, very, what is the word you people use nowadays, glorious!"

'Thanks, we'll just take one of these that Lacus selected for us," Athrun said hurriedly, pointing at a random sketch, and Du Maurier looked outraged at his lack of interest, shaking his head and saying sadly, "Politicians nowadays all think they are not celebrities. You and your wife other delusional, and anymore of you in the population would mean that the world is doomed."

Athrun tried not to choke with laughter.

"You know, Chairman," Du Maurier was saying loudly, making a fabulous gesture or two for him to be seated and an assistant to comb his hair, "I do not understand why you and the Princess are willing to take one of the rejects of Mediator Clyne and her beautiful husband."

"Er-beautiful?"

"Why, very!" Du Maurier screeched, "Chocola-tte hair," He paused here to glare at Athrun, as if daring him to disagree, "Eyes that were made to kill the gods that tried to compete with him, of course Miss Clyne is ve-ry beautiful herself, but Commander Yamato is the moon surrounded by stars such as herself, and he is but the only-," He trailed off in some choice French superlatives Athrun understood very little of, and he thought to himself, 'This man has been named correctly. He's demented he is.'

The hotel he was in was filled with people rushing in and out, and he knew Kira would be joining him soon. He thought humorously to himself, how horrified Du Maurier had been when Kira and him suggested that he tend to Lacus and Cagalli and 'the men would settle their own things.'

Du Maurier had gone ballistic, insisting that they show up in a posh hotel with many other guests and competing designers, 'rivals', Du Maurier had snarled, for him to handle them, 'like dogs,' Athrun said tactlessly, and then he would go on to Kira's residence to tend to the ladies, 'like flowers,' Kira said, politically-correct for once.

They did not fail to neglect, however, that Kira's mock French accent had certainly not been politically-correct.

While there were other guests of the event being dressed in the hotel, most ostensibly the male, since the females did not want to be seen by the others, 'peacock syndrome,' Du Maurier explained very knowledgeably, Athrun felt highly isolated in his case of being dressed.

It was understandable, he supposed, since there were more dressers than the person to be dressed. They kept combing his hair to different ways until they decided a certain one was the best, and when he saw his reflection, it was the exact way he always combed his hair in the morning, and he was glad this was all free of charge and all for Du Maurier's publicity.

Kira arrived five minutes later in a daze, he had been stopped by the media with a few other guess in the lobby and they had to reveal what they were going as, and Kira, in the confusion, had said, 'Fish monger,' when he had merely meant, 'Fish merchant," and there had been an uproar below, hence the latecoming.

"Oh well," Kira said calmly, never ruffled, "I'm late but better late than never."

"This god has the attitude we should all learn from," Du Maurier crowed over the top of Athrun's head, "Be fashionably late!"

"You didn't say that when I came late for work by three minutes!" One hairdresser piped up, and a hairbrush flew over Kira's head and hit her, resulting with a loud, 'Oww!'

"Hold your mortal tongue and remember that silence is golden!" Du Maurier commanded, "Now fetch me the masterpieces."

Well, technically, Athrun thought, they were. At least the insane old man was committed to his craft. Kira was soon decked in the traditional Kyoto clothes with a dark blue _haori_, a sort of jacket with fine white piping on his large sleeves and his pants were tied together firmly with a knot directly in line and below the intersection of his folded collar of the jet shirt. He looked remarkably handsome, in navy, grey, black socks, straw sandals and a boyish grin, Athrun thought, noticing the female dressers and Du Maurier swooning over him.

Kira just looked bemused, and then he called Lacus on his phone and asked, "How's it back there?"

"We're taking a walk in the garden with Leon," they all heard her say sweetly, and the entire room froze.

"Tres abominable!" Du Maurier screamed, "Taking a walk five hours before the event is like training for a marathon after the gun has been fired!"

"Aren't we exaggerating a little?" Athrun asked weakly, adjusting the stiff collar around his neck and feeling someone's fingers already helping him to it. He smiled courteously at the woman helping him and she blushed madly and he dimmed his smile a bit to not encourage her. Kira snorted with laughter.

"I will rush over there," Du Maurier exclaimed, "If they need my help so badly, I will abandon even a god and rush over."

"He means you," Athrun told Kira pointedly, and the girl who had spoken up before piped up loyally, "Chairman Zala, he means you too!"

"True, you do deserve your place in the list of 'men-of-the-Cosmic-Era,' " Kira said humorously to Athrun, both of them ignoring Du Maurier who was shouting instructions in rapid-fire French to his assistants to move and get to Commander Yamato's residence immediately to rescue the 'poor, petite mam'zelles who cannot manage without Du Maurier and must resort to taking walks to kill time,'.

"I feel like I belong to another timeframe," Athrun explained helplessly, "At least it's a suit of some kind, never mind the tailcoats and the cravat."

He glanced at himself in the mirror- he was supposed to be a medieval English aristocrat except his tunic, coat and pants were devoid of the usual scarlet and earth colours but entirely done in full black, even more striking, but very, very, warm.

He fanned himself a bit, "Damn, I'm sweating."

"I like my sandals," Kira said unhelpfully, "They're really airy."

"Shut it, you," He said enviously, "You got a sword to go with that?"

"I do," Kira offered, pulling it out and showing him the rounded edge of the katana, "Just the sheath, I think, but it's heavy enough. And weapons are prohibited for tonight, although I know you still have your gun somewhere in that suit of yours, never mind the English sword they gave you. Old habits are hard to die anyway."

"Right," Athrun conceded, lifting his coat and confirming it was there, "It's a good thing they've all left so we can relax until we're sent there."

They looked at each other and burst out in helpless laughter. And Athrun kicked off his highly polished boots and flopped onto a bed like a suffocating fish, which figuratively, he was.

Instead of doing likewise, Kira sat down more composedly into a chair which Du Maurier had vacated and watched his friend looking bored, handsome yes, but very bored. White linen, pure and fine with a horiton lace cravat and a moonstone or something like that pinned to his throat, and a long jet coat with tails atop an ebony tunic that accentuated Athrun's enviable height and stature, it was all very dashing in the medieval fashion. While Kira adorned grey _hakama_ in the Kyoto style, Athrun wore the attire of an English aristocrat in Medievial fashion. Du Maurier was diverse, Kira supposed.

"What's Cagalli tuning up as?" He asked Athrun who was rolling here and there in a bad imitation of the Haros. He assumed that Athrun was doing this only because Du Maurier was absent.

"I don't know," Athrun replied briefly, "I never asked."

He thought about her honeyed arms being encased in the soft linen of her ridiculous pajamases and wondered if Du Maurier would have a fit if he saw her like that in such unglamorous attire.

"She didn't mention anything?" Kira said puzzled, imagining his twin swearing uncontrollably to Athrun about the dress she would be stuffed into.

A little prick of irritation darted at Athrun, he had been so busy imagining Cagalli's golden hair and eyes that stared, transfixed with him, and the button that she had failed to realise that was out of its slit. But he kept his tone even, it was Kira he was dealing with.

"No," Athrun repeated patiently, "But Lacus didn't tell you anything either, did she?"

"No," Kira echoed thoughtfully, "We'll just have to wait and see."

He had asked Cagalli a while back there whether she wanted to stay with Lacus or follow Athrun, and just like he had expected, Lacus persuaded her to stay and 'let Kira and Athrun sort themselves out,' she had smiled, 'I want to sort you out, Cagalli.'

And now, Kira leant back, reached into his navy outer coat and took out a stagnant haro, the blue one. And then the pink one from the other side. They were sleeping until he woke them up, he had frozen them temporarily so they wouldn't be a nuisance.

"No wonder your coat looked so baggy," Athrun remarked, "Nice wave pattern by the way."

"Oh," Kira said absently, noticing the woodprint-style emblem and motifs on the sleeves in printed white and some gold thread, "Tell that to Du Maurier. He likes his work being praised."

"By a god," Athrun said nastily, "Yes, he does."

A haro hit him squarely in the face.

"He likes Cagalli too," Kira said slyly, rolling the blue, un-throwed haro in his two hands as he surveyed Athrun who was holding off the pink one and looking carefully at it to see its condition over the past decade or so. At this, Athrun started up and said pointedly, "She never told me she had a fan who was insane and a bit touched in the head."

"Well, she does," Kira pointed out, flapping the haro's ears aimlessly, back and forth, "And he told me that he thinks that she's remarkably handsome."

"Just like how you're beautiful," Athrun mocked, and another haro hit him in the face. Grinning, he threw them back at Kira who caught them, one in his hands, one that settled nicely in his lap. He reached down and scratched his foot a little; the ebony toe-socks were a bit itchy.

"You know, Athrun," Kira said carefully, lolling the haros here and there as he observed his best friend reclining, "She loves you very much."

"You really think so?" Athrun started to say bitterly, but he stopped himself and nodded in response. His smile was tight.

Kira, thankfully, left it at that, and proceeded to doze off, as Athrun did the same.

Exactly four hours later, Athrun's secretary came in, without knocking, and studied two very handsome men in their attires, one peacefully dozing on a bed, one quietly nodding to himself. And she hurriedly woke them up, although she had paused to admire them for about two minutes, yelling hastily, "The car's here!"

They started up and stood up, stretching about and picking lint of their clothes. Du Maurier would have been horrified, Athrun thought dully with a grin, and saw that Kira was thinking the same as he straightened himself.

His secretary was going as a gypsy, hence the rather risqué show of flesh and the circlets of gold around her. At least, Athrun noted staring at her, she was wearing a full gown-skirt although it was admittedly very short in the front with hanging gold coins down the hem with deep emerald scarves. All Athrun could think about was that he was glad she would not be in the car he and Kira were designated to with a separate driver, she was tiresome enough as herself, let alone the rather hapless gypsy from the Hunchback of Notre Dame.

"You don't like her?" Kira asked cluelessly, once they were in the car and out of earshot.

"I'd like to cast her leg in the iron shoe and tighten it to break it like Esmerelda's foot sometimes," Athrun replied grimly.

They arrived amidst wild applause and immediate recognition of who they were, even though neither of them broke their silence. The entire arena around them was terribly noisy, and Athrun was willing to bet that he couldn't hear himself think. They stood graciously for a few photographs, well, not a few, and then retreated into the castle-like opera theatre and proceeded up a few staircases to stand above the crowd and observe safely.

The guests were coming up the stairs into the theatre, and they were ushered in by two men each and a sea of cameras, but thankfully, Athrun thought as he endured the blinding flashes everywhere, the rest of the guests would have to bear with these too, especially the more well-know, key figures. The common ZAFT soldier would simply enjoy a glamorous night of theatre, fine dining, and to see and to be seen in an event like this.

And then Athrun became aware that Kira was tugging at his arm and pointing to someone, and he turned to see Barty Robin, Meyrin and presumably their colleague arriving. Barty looked ridiculously bubbly in his bottle-green suit and top hat, their colleague looked like the rabbit except like what Meyrin had said, she looked distinctively female and something out of a men's magazine but only with a full train, and Meyrin looking very fresh and pretty as Alice.

He called out to her and she hurried over, her eyes wide with excitement and the novelty of being at something as high-profile and well-covered as this. Some bodyguards looked concerned, but they kept staring at Meyrin and were quite male, so Athrun assumed it was natural.

"You look pretty tonight," he told her smilingly, and she grinned unaffectedly and said, "So do you."

Kira studied her politely, Meyrin was dressed in a sky blue gown with its hem made entirely out of cream and white lace that tapered short to the front, giving her the traditional Alice outfit with its pinafore except that this was an updated, quirky gown. Her feet had large black bows tied to them, as did a large one sitting on her hair, and her red hair was very striking in the ensemble.

"Commander Yamato!" Barty exclaimed, running up to them like an excited young boy, "You look fantastic! Like a god!"

Kira paled and Athrun laughed.

The cameras were snapping like hungry crocodiles, but at least it wasn't just them. The politicians were arriving from everywhere; it was almost like a movie premier but more prolific, less gossipy, and even more highly anticipated. The cameras weren't the only things flashing, the jewels the women wore and some of the men even, were blinding and some worth millions. There were crowds of people gathering and trying to force their way into the theatre, but the guards kept them back in case a better look at the key figures of the political and military scene meant a gun or two and a few brains blown out and a few assassinations to mark the event.

"Why don't you go in?" Meyrin asked curiously, tilting her head and studying them, her friend remained tongue-tied at seeing them both, and she was staring openly at Athrun for reasons he did not want to think about to much.

"We're waiting for Lacus and Cagalli," Kira explained politely, "But don't wait for us, I'm sure there are plenty of others waiting for you as well."

He gestured to the side and a few men who Athrun barely recognized were gawking at Meyrin. She laughed, a clean and bright sound that scythed through the thick layer of conversation, greetings and laughter and applause as people stepped out of the cars and hurried after Barty who was speaking to the minister of finance.

They stood at the side of the entrance, glad that nobody would notice them now that they were out of the foray of the arriving guests, having arrived themselves already, and spotted. From the high window of the side tower they stood at, Ezalia Joule sweeping out in dazzling white, heavy sapphires and silver adorning her neck, wrist and gown with the white fur muff and a tiny crystal crown the Snow Queen was expected to have, and Athrun thought wryly, house arrest long forgotten. The crowds were cheering and she was immediately kissed by some key figures of PLANT and someone led her in.

She ignored most of the crowds, very in tune with her character as the Snow Queen, but then it was nothing less than what Athrun would expect.As she glided in, she noticed Athrun and Kira and smiled very politely, but they knew she was a force to be reckoned with.

Dearka came by their stairway, dressed as a wild pirate with sweeping feathers in his grand hat and a grin from ear to ear. "You would have thought they'd be more interested in political alliances than an event like this," he remarked cheerfully to both of them as he passed them by on the landing, "But no, they like seeing us like this."

He moved off, whistling merrily and causing a few girls at the side to stare appreciatively.

When Yzak Joule marched out in deep sepia and blood-reds, a few fine falcon feathers pinned in his hat as the scarlet of his cloak gleamed engimatically as a Falconer, the crowds exploded into screams complying to their appreciation and applauded like people who couldn't control their hands. It was getting darker already, and the camera flashers were still getting brighter in the darkening of the evening.

And then he paused, bowing to the person who was stepping out, and proceeded to lead Shiho Hahenfuss out. The world became an explosion of noise and cheers and Athrun noted with some cheek, that the rumors that Yzak Joule liked men more than women were finally being squashed to a pulp.

Shiho passed by them and she smiled a little stiffly at Athrun who saluted. She started to do so, but thought better of it and offered her hand for him, and grinned sheepishly as he obligingly took it. And Yzak snatched it off and kissed it instead and said snappishly to him, "Hands off, Zala!"

They grinned at each other and punched each the opposite on the shoulder. It looked strange, an English aristocrat punching a very striking Falconer and then being socked in return while a Japanese man or rather, Kira who was decked in that attire, and Shiho, in a deep scarlet gown with emblems of gold and auburn feathers of a phoenix, started exchanging tips about improving operational systems. In no time, they moved off to meet Ezalia Joule.

From their little corner at the side balcony of the theatre, they watched car after car move up to the steps, bearing the most important figures of the day from EA, ORB, and PLANT.

The two men watched the arrivals silently; a glittering water serpent, a Russian princess they recognised as Eileen Canaver, a few eighteenth century English court jesters who juggled the crowds and the high-ranking officials who spoke to them, a few regal Belgium Emperors who graciously accepted that their costumes were of the same central theme, a few Shakespearean characters, a couple of European vampires that were from ORB's financial cabinet, a troupe of gypsies, including Athrun's secretary, ministrels who were really ministers, some beautifully dressed Flamenco dancers, a Mona Lisa and some other well known characters of famous paintings, a few miscellaneous Greek and Scandinavian gods, some Roman soldiers, various types of mythical animals and birds, a mermaid or two with fish tails hanging from their sparkling gowns, and strangely enough, a Lacus Clyne.

"Weird," Kira said curiously, I never thought she'd be a subject of fancy-dress."

Athrun merely smirked.

And then as they watched, a car amidst all those piling up approached, and he glanced at Kira and nodded. They knew which car it was.

And they raced down the spiraling staircase into the navy and royal purple of the evening and stood at the steps as the Mediator of PLANT and the Supreme Commander of ORB stepped out. The air ignited into applause, wild, uncontrollable and screams of delight, and both men could see why.

The other key figures were gathering around the two newly arrived like courtiers around their queens, and figuratively, this was the case. Lacus, resplendent in a beautiful plum colored gown with a kimono collar adorned with imprints of nightingale on her large, _furisode_, swinging sleeves, all a perfect compliment to Kira's. She paused, beaming politely at the reporters and the cameras, her beauty epic and her hair pulled up and strung with gold pieces to mimic a bird's plumage.

The photographers were taking in every inch of her appearance, and Athrun thought humouredly, that Du Maurier would be pleased. Her skirt was bell-shaped in the Western tradition, pure white and quaintly held by golden rims that cascaded and entrapped the material, cage-like in mimicry of the legendary bird of the Japanese folklore, the Emperor's Nightingale. The cameras were moving around them like sharks around some sort of prey, but she fended them well, turning just slightly for all cameras to catch a glimpse of her while Cagalli remained hidden by the crowd of people shaking her hand and congratulating her on her recent achievements and that sort of polite protocol.

But Athrun knew better. They wanted to be close to her, to touch her soft hand as she stood and Kira led Lacus away, both of them railed by cameras that were desperately trying to fix them both in the same picture as they smiled comfortably at each other. Only then did Athun's voice return to him as he called out, "Cagalli!"

And it seemed that the entire world turned to him, and the faces he could not see, surrounding her, fell away to reveal Cagalli Yula Atha.

She looked at him, smiling shyly, and his breath caught and stuck somewhere as all of those who had seen her. 'It wasn't fair,' he thought enviously, 'that they saw her before he did.'

The crowds had seen the ORB Princess, her torso clothed in milky-pearl white silk that started a mere inches above her bossom and tapered down to her feet, darkening, rusting to a soft grey, like liquid metal that was malled into a gown with a voluminous satin-grey train and exquisite embroidery of flat, tasteful black thorns around the hem trailing up to her abdomen in inky black. And a collar of metal which was reminiscent of the armour collar rested on her neck. The arch of her collarbones were left tantalisingly bare, and he had to fight the urge to caress each one with his fingertips and lips, her arms were tasseled with silver chains acting as straps caressing shoulders, each leading to a mail gauntlet glove on each hand. And a blinding sword was hanging around her waist, saddled in by a soft brown leather belt with a distinctively medieval pattern. Her blonde hair had been unadorned, save for a very delicate bouquet arranged behind one year with trailing black ribbons. Joan D'Arc.

And now, Athrun Zala saw her and wondered why he had let her go in the first place.

He found himself on bent knee, kissing her hand gallantly as a courtier would, and when he stood, loud cries of approval and immediate, deafening applause erupted out everwhere again, his ears were ringing with the applause, but the cameras did not bother him anymore than a slight flash of fire would.

As he led her away with him, he jolted back to where they were, and one reporter was gesturing wildly and the cameras were focused on her hand, or more specifially, ring finger, that he could see, an a rising ire swept up in him as he watched them as they tried to force their way forward for a better view of it. She looked unsteadily at him, and said awkwardly, "I-,"

She had removed his ring a long time since then, she hadn't worn it tonight either. But he cared little for this, he cared more that the reporters were hounding upon them and closing in like a pack of noisy, laughing hyenas with snarling jaws, and he paused and took something out of his own pocket. It wasn't as beautiful as the ruby he had given her, but it would suffice now, his own simple band of silver, and he raised her hand and slid it very securely on her finger, almost as if claiming her again.

"You're ready now," He said calmly, watching her eyes grow wide with surprise and the glint of silver on her finger. It had no blood-coloured ruby, but she would be his even then, and he ignored the sputters from the media, as if he had robbed them of a column of gossip filled articles that were being planned to fill the front pages of the newspapers. He smirked, thinking sardonically, 'I guess I did.'

"What are you smirking about?" She whispered, suddenly insecure in the place where all the eyes were fixed on her. She wanted to run and hide, she wasn't used to being like this, even though she had thought she could have handled it after being in the limelight for so many years after the war.

"Nothing," He lied.

The sounds of the world were being left far behind, it was muting into some faraway waterfall as the sweeping strings of the orchestra resounded louder and louder as they moved forward, his hand firm around hers.

Only Cagalli and he existed in this world from that moment onward.


	27. Chapter 27

Disclaimer: I own nothing of GS/GSD. R&R please.

* * *

Chapter 27 

And the world stared as he led her in, entranced.

"Athrun," She muttered, "Er- do you want to let go of my hand now?"

"No," he said from the corner of his mouth, nodding politely at the Vice-chairman of the PLANT University board who was a French Musketeer for the night, "Do you want an explanation?"

"I'll pass," Cagalli muttered back to Athrun as her train billowed behind and the sword on her hilt glinted in the night. But her face was slgihtly awkward beneath the practised smile that she wore.

'Right,' His brain scoffed, 'You only want to hold her hand. And she doesn't want to know why. Joy.'

"Du Maurier's outdone himself," they heard someone say, and they turned around to see Ezalia Joule moving splendidly down the stairs with her associates trailing behind her. They looked insipid and dull next to her, like she had effortlessly drained their splendour and their finery with just her snow-coloured gown and beautifully sharp eyes. Her neck was encrusted with diamonds, and somehow, the rubies and far more impressive emeralds, square-cut and very brilliant, were not as brilliant as the woman wearing the glassy gems but a glassier image.

He bowed; feeling compelled to even though the government was strictly forbidden from returning to their old ways of the Houses and the inner connections of the highest society, and she offered her hand to him, and he kissed it as he had been taught so long ago while Cagalli smiled politely at Lady Joule.

"You both look wonderful," she said in her mellow, careful voice, regally, inclining her head somewhat, "And to the Supreme Commander of ORB, more than that, I would say, sensational."

"Thank you, Lady Joule," Cagalli responded simply, and all the subordinates and Athrun, specifically Athrun, was entranced by her unassuming manner and delicate blush beneath, barely detectable but still existing, "You look very beautiful.."

She laughed in response, Ezalia was either being courteous or sincerely fond of Cagalli, Athrun would never know because Lady Joule was not a person who allowed these things to be known. But this was all that the back of his mind, his eyes were keen upon Cagalli, like a hawk, detecting every nuance in her voice and every delicate feature that he wanted to touch and remember.

"I was told not to go as the Snow Queen," Ezalia said placidly, "The publicists said it was too cold. So I did."

There was a slight lapse of silence as each person pondered how to respond to her, but then Ezalia granted her a rare smile that sent her heart fluttering, and for a minute, Cagalli felt the aura of charisma that had brought so many to follow Ezalia Joule.

"Come along," Athrun commanded her likewise, "The evening will soon begin."

She acceded and placed her hand in his again as he put out his hand to receive it, and feeling remarkably at ease with him, more so than she thought she'd ever be for that night, moved by his side. They made a striking couple, one entirely in jet, one in dove-white that extended to coal-grey, as if being with a man like him next to her was an influence that was more apparent than anything else in the world. Black and white, and shades of grey. A blood rose in his breastpocket, silver chains around her soft arms and lush shoulders.

Kira and Lacus were speaking to the Prime Minister of EA Berlin, and his daughter, a Russian King and Odette from Swan Lake respectively, and at the appearance of Athrun and Cagalli, they immediately ended their conversation albeit politely, and moved off.

"A pity Leon couldn't come," Athrun remarked to both of them as they headed down the wide corridors filled with both ushers, bodyguards and guests. Cagalli spotted Rainie and waved hurriedly before they turned another corner.

"Not really," Lacus replied charmingly, and Kira explained obligingly, "We decided he'd get too excited and wouldn't sleep tonight, and then we'd be in real hell."

In a matter of minutes, dinner was served, and it was pity, Caalli thought, that the key personnel were all put together and the normal soldiers in another dining hall altogether. While the finery was exactly the same regardless of rank or status, she would have enjoyed being with the more typical soldiers, listening to their casual chatter and having to answer less carefully lest the important members of the respective parliaments took offence and insult unintended.

As they passed one hall where the less prominent leaders were, mostly the assistants or the normal soldiers, Cagalli realised that they were far too close, and she would be made to sit right next to Athrun if she didn't do anything to avert the awkward situation. She was so nervous thinking of this, that she stumbled straight into Meyrin's friend, and gasped, "Sorry!"

"It's okay," Bunny-girl stammered, regaining her balance as Cagalli helped her to stabilize herself on her heels. Athrun was preoccupied with someone talking to him now, and Cagalli focused her attention on the rather pert, attractive brunette.

"You're under Barty, aren't you?" She asked mildly, holding out her hand, and looking astonished at her lack of formality but responding nicely to it all the same, the Bunny-girl extended her own hand, shook it cutely and offered shyly, "I'm Bonita Kinsley."

And Cagalli grinned," It's good to meet you, Bonita."

The girl was staring at her with obvious awe and adoration in her wide chestnut coloured eyes, and Cagalli's smile dimmed a bit, quite by sheer fact that the girl was holding her offered hand with both by now.

"My kid brother's a huge fan of yours," She gushed, almost as if Cagalli Yula Atha was a popstar of some sort, "He'd love to meet you, I know, and if it's possible-," She faltered and reddened, and Cagalli was hastened to prompt her by smiling.

"Could you visit us when you're in PLANT one day?" She ended excitedly. She was beside herself with enthusiasm, almost like those puppies that ended up falling over themselves just to get at a ball they did not particularly want, more because it was their owner offering it and teasing them.

But it was difficult not to like Bonita Kinsley, Cagalli thought vaguely, she was pretty, obviously quite intelligent if she was fit to be under Barty Robin, and immensely attractive in her bright demeanor and naturally excitable personality. So she exchanged numbers with the girl, and had to excuse herself because Athrun was signaling to her with his eyes that it was time to move on.

She tried to make a bypass so she would sit at Kira's right and in between him and a person she recognized as the EA ambassador to PLANT in a bohemian suit, complete with bronze cufflinks and quirky emblems. But Athrun somehow pulled her over to him and silently forced her to sit. She glared at him and he stared at her, coolly, impassively, but his eyes were burning.

For the rest of the dinner, she smiled at those who attempted to make conversation and spoke to those who spoke to her, politely courteously, carefully, and very genially. She was used to all this now. Athrun was a powerful presence, he answered questions with succinct replies and sharp, slightly uncomofortable questions in reply to the questions he did not want to answer.

She, on the other hand, used a slightly different approach. Only when the questions were sensed to be slightly personal or pressing, would she show the iron in her will, the slight change in her eyes that made it clear that her work changed her as a person instantaneously. And many who asked the questions she did not want to answer eventually left these, so charmed were they by her as she was now.

At a certain point in the dinner when the chatter had grown considerably louder compared to when it had first begun, she lifted her crystal goblet with one hand, the other tired and resting in her lap, weary from her unconcious gesturing during her talking. She drank a little, and then suddenly, was made aware of his touch, as he sat next to her, similarly, with one hand holding his goblet, and felt his other hand grazing the one in her lap.

She jerked wildly; almost spilling from her goblet, but managed to recover in time. His hand had frozen at this, but then, as a man across them asked worriedly, "Are you alright, Miss Atha?", she nodded quickly, trying not to look at Athrun.

His face registered nothing.

His fingers were tiptoeing across her frozen hand and measuring the width of the cold, thin band of metal around her finger that he had given her only hours ago. And her breath was becoming ragged, as if he had personally kissed her, and her eyes were darting everywhere but to him as he slowly abandoned her hand in her lap, but trailed further, perilously, and her eyes were blazing but weakened, she was perspiring slightly and resisting the urge to stab him with her dinner knife, to pant, to cry out in her ire but terrible, wanton desire to hold him and measure his broad back with her hands.

"Are you sure you're fine?" The same man asked, and she fought for control as she blushed badly. Athrun, damn him, looked totally stationary but she knew otherwise, and he looked at her with slight concern as the other man did, but she saw mischief in his eyes and a deep glint in their individual forests.

"Yes, tell us," he said with a slight drawl, it was somehow disconnected from his impassive, slightly concerned face and still shoulders, and his roving hand, all while she fought not to tremble violently.

She gasped her answer and as if satisfied, he abandoned her totally but not without touching the ring on her finger again as if some sort of cruel reminder of her obligation to them that night and he sat still, properly and totally as in control as he had been from the first place. She however, had to wait to calm herself down and remember how to breathe. The man who had inquired was looking slightly puzzled.

And she was made fully aware, as if for the first time, that Athrun was equally skilled, he was fielding questions about his job and ETERNITY's future goals expertly, and the only slip he made was when the head professor of Economics from the EA university asked him, "With such a ravishing wife as yours, sir, why did you go back to PLANT when you could have remained in ORB?"

There was a pause in their region, some of the people around them had stopped talking to hear his answer. Cagalli looked flustered, she could not help but be, and Athrun looked rather cold as he drank a little and said in a controlled voice, "She wanted me to."

"What?" the professor said in disbelief, not really trusting the implications to what Athrun's words meant. The laughter was dying down in just their region, and the air was slightly tense. 'Eat your dinner and stop being busybodies!' Athrun wanted to roar, but he stopped himself. And the awkwardness was slight, but it was enough to be detected.

"What he means," Cagalli said a little awkwardly, "Is that our obligations to both ORB and PLANT respectively are the first and foremost in the list of priorities."

The smiles erupted on their faces for those who had heard, for it was a long table filled with many people, and the chatter resumed and the professor looked impressed with her answer. She breathed a sigh of relief only when he was looking at what was on his plate rather than scrutinizing her face or Athrun's.

"Bastard," She murmured, upset, pretending to dab her lips with a napkin.

"You're welcome," he echoed sarcastically, trying to look like he was eating while bending down slightly.

For an instant, she wanted to ask him why he was being like this, but then she knew why. She had caused it, of course she'd know why.

The dessert was a bit alcoholic, and she refrained, not quite knowing why. The aftertaste, she knew though, would always be bitter.

And as the guests mingled around in droves, she found herself forgetting the torturous minutes of his touch on her, how much she loathed it but desired it, and her mind was drawn instead, to the people around her. She lost herself entirely to conversation and her smile became bright and free again.

"Princess," Dearka Elseman was saying gallantly, "You are very pleasing to the eye."

"Thank you, Captain," Cagalli grinned, "You look honorable, pirate or not."

"Arr," he said lamely in response, and she leant forward to share in his infectious laughter. Athrun, engaged in conversation with someone else, lost his concentration for half a second, and his narrowed green eyes darted to their backs, boring a hole in both, but only Dearka noticed and he waved to Athrun who reluctantly nodded back and resumed the conversation.

'You'd better stop being a prize-idiot,' Athrun told himself sternly, 'Control, remember what your father always said.'

"Where's Mirallia?"Cagalli asked, concerned with Dearka's lack of partner. Then she thought wanly to herself, 'Pot calling the kettle black.'

"With the paparazzi outside," he laughed jovially, reminding Cagalli why she appreciated his personality so much, "She likes photographing, not being photographed. But to make it up to me," He winked like the cad he was, "She's dating me every day of this week."

His parents moved by, waving to both of them, and she smiled and waved back. Ted Elseman was an older version of Dearka, cheerful and good-natured.

She left Dearka and found Shiho Hahenfuss being surrounded by a few soldiers, the more high-ranking ones, Cagalli guessed. Shiho was explaining something about acceleration drives and performance tests, but Cagalli could see that they were staring at her too closely to be cautally listening. Hearing maybe, but listening, not likely.

"Major!" She called, and a few of them turned.

'Right,' she told herself, feeling a bit lame, 'This is a military beehive,' and she added hastily "- Hahenfuss."

Shiho saluted as id the rest of the men, and Cagalli chuckled a little and approached her, not seeing that many eyes turned to atch her and half the men surrounding Shiho started preoccupying their eyes with her instead. Across the room, Atrhun watched from the corner of his eye, and thought to himself that she was often blind about these things. The man he had been talking with was also looking at her, and furious, Athrun said politely and rather coldly, "As I was saying-,"

"You know, Shiho," Cagalli said pleasantly, "You look so beautiful in this colour."

"My thanks, Princess," Shiho replied emotionlessly, but her cheeks were a bit rosy and her eyes had widened, "The people who said that this evening didn't realize that it is the exact same colour as my uniform, and they've never said that to me before."

Indeed it was the same. But the glint of diamonds on Shiho's throat and ears added to the effect and she was stunning as the phoenix she was impersonating. The diamonds, however, reminded her of Ezalia Joule, but she wisely said nothing. They spoke of the most recent developments to the mobile suits and Shiho's latest theory she had yet to test on half-solidified fuels, until Yzak Joule appeared bowing deeply to Cagalli, and she let him have her hand to kiss.

"Now if you'll excuse us," He concluded sharply in a manner that was so dinstinctively his, "I'd like to take the Major off before someone else steals her."

She grinned at him, appreciating his sharp humour and mean streak that made him so loved and hated simultaneously. But he was an intelligent, loyal man, Yzak Joule, and he had since long ago earned her respect.

"Same here," Athrun's voice sounded at her side, and she turned to see him looking at Yzak and Shiho courteously and felt his hand slipping snugly on her waist, "We're in the same predicament, Commander."

"Very good," Yzak said calmly, "So you weren't lying then?"

Neither Shiho nor Cagalli understood what this meant, but Athrun whirled her away before she could pause to ask Yzak what his words implied. He led her to an unoccupied balcony where the night veil was misting over the sky and the moon was covered, so little light protruded there. The bushes at the large overhang of the spacious balcony made it even darker, and she peered a little into the darkness, suddenly aware that it was very quiet and far away from the main halls where the chatter was still resonating with laughter and joyous smiles.

"Do you think this is fooling anyone?" He asled in a low voice, still checking to see if anyone was listening.

She loked around too; there was nobody but the two of them. The rest were still mingling around, it was an hour early before the opera started, and the conversations in the hall were still echoeing through like bells in the wind.

"I hope it is," she said rather earnestly, and he gazed at her, his eyes well accustomed to the darkness by now. With the colours Cagalli was swathed in, it seemed to him that she was vanishing into the night bit by bit, inch by inch, from her torso onwards, and to her, it seemed that he was night itself. They stared at each other, and he closed the distance between them even more.

"The slips we've made," Athrun said stealthily, "The professor noticed. Stay close to me, I believe Kira is catching on."

"Oh, but what does it matter?" She asked desperately, "In the end they'll still have to know. It's just sooner or later."

"I prefer later," Athrun told her quietly, his voice laced with some poison and pain that she could somehow still sense, "And you agreed to it, even suggested it yourself."

"I know," she said miserably, "But it's so difficult."

His eyes softened, he could not tolerate himself being harsh to Cagalli, and more often than not, it was unintentional, and he silently berated himself. Why was he asking this of her? Of himself?

"We agreed to do this," Athrun breathed near her ear, and she shivered in the night air and the caress his breath made on the fine skin of her ear, "We have to carry this through."

Because he wanted her to come so close to him, become so unafraid of him, that he would remind her how they were supposed to be and for her to know that he was helpless without her. If he caught up with her now and told her recklessly, "Say everything you said was wrong and that you still need me," she would jump back like a deer and he would lose her entirely. And now, he was banking on drawing her nearer, persuading her to remember until she would say what he wanted her to for him and for herself.

"How?" She asked breathlessly, feeling the urge to draw him closer but also for her to just get away, like some cornered prey desperate to flee.

His breath tickled her jaw now, and his hands, warm upon her bare shoulders, save for the cold chains that encased her arms, moved to shift her face to his pale face. She was strangely conscious that he was shifting a few chains as he fought to feel the skin they had previously rested upon, granting warmth to the cold lines of skin. His eyes glinted strangely, a trick of the night, she supposed, or tried to think so. And the red rose all the men had received for the evening, the same rose now in his breastpocket, caressed her skin where he was so close to touching her.

"Just imagine," he whispered, half-persuasive, half-bitter, neither really obvious in the dead of the night from where they were, "That you never forced me to leave you."

"I can't do that," she said immediately, "It's not the truth."

His eyes flashed.

"What is?" He said derisively, "All of this?"

She was silent, his words had struck correctly and she looked at him, still trying to think of a better way to handle this, to fight for control, and damn Athrun, his lips were selecting portions of her neck to kiss and although she valiantly fought for control, he was somehow forcing her to arch for both their sakes until he asked softly, his voice deep and half its normal volume, so only she would hear, "Will you do this?"

"Yes," she breathed, shallow, not trusting herself, but being forced to trust him, his fingers were tracing the edge of her ribs, so perilously near and she hated the effect of his touch and his shrewdness.

"Good," he said simply and stepped away abruptly, leaving her colder than ever and hating him suddenly. The shock of him persuading her to carry his will with the exploit of the physical reacion she had to him was like waking up after a lengthy, delirious dream to find oneself bathing not in rose petals, but in vats of thick, black blood. And the full force of why she had hated him so much hit her again and she turned away, unable to stare at him in the eye. He did not blame her or try to make her face him. He merely waited, silent, until she recovered her composure, truned back to him, and offered her hand for him to take.

The bell signaling the start of the night's performance was ringing busily, and the guests were miling off to the actual theatre. As they moved by, part of the long lines of guests, he spotted Meyrin with an olden English lady with blood-red gloves and a heavily ruffled gown which did her figure quite some justice.

"Lunamaria!" Cagalli gasped, running over and grasping her hands, "How have you been?"  
"Super," the sprightly girl laughed, fondly embracing her as if they had met and loved each other forever, and her spirited eyes caught sight of Athrun and she promptly shook his hand.

"Lady Macbeth, I presume," he said with a grin, and Lunamaria nodded eagerly and held up her hands which were clad in long, red gloves.

"Out, damn spot!" Meyrin cried in glee to Cagalli, and Cagalli embraced her and they giggled like best friends, which was quite close as well, Athrun thought genially. They spotted Shinn Asuka too, who was Venetian royalty for the night, and he came over rather awkwardly but managed to speak quite civillly to all of them.

"Out for murder?" He asked Lunamaria innocently, and she smacked him on the arm and chuckled, so they didn't hold grudges then, still good friends. He eventually gave her his red rose, claiming that the flower did not suit him, and Lunamaria took it without much to say in return, but her smile was gentle and knowing, and Athrun noticed Shinn's ear tips reddening.

'How nice,' Athrun though ruefully. He soon had to excuse himself and Cagalli with an usher who was assigned to leading them to their Opera boxes. And Cagalli turned to him, her eyes shining, quite forgetting the tense conversation they had just had, and his breath became shallow again. It wasn't her nature to be tensed with him, he realised, and she, not even knowing his thoughts, said excitedly, "I never thought I'd speak to them like this again!"

He smiled sincerely and when he offered his arm, she took it, falling silent but in a very comforting manner as they were brought into the top boxes of the Opera theatre. No matter what they said about all classes equal, Athrun thought decidedly, this was no more apparent than a ghost in broad daylight.

The normal soldiers, mechanics and the engineers or assistants and miscelleaneous staff of the leaders in EA, PLANT and ORB were seated on the ground a distance away frdom the stage. As for the key political figures and the military heads, they were high above in boxes, plane views provided, the most clear sound of the performance to be.

But Kira and Lacus were to sit in another box, this one would seat Athun, Cagalli and Athrun's key personnel from ETERNITY. Yzak Joule and Shiho Hahenfuss were put in the same box, and Athrun was glad Shiho sat between Cagalli and Yzak. It wasn't like him to be so jumpy or petty, Athrun thought decidedly, just that the night was planned to be filled with unbridled conversation and some things were not meant for Yzak Joule to figure out. He was too wily and perceptive, and Cagalli too unassuming and trusting.

"Tell me, Chairman," the lady who was the chief administrative assistant was asking, "How did you meet the Princess?"

Yzak was looking strangely at them, "Pray," he said courteously with a bit of inquiry in his deceptively calm voice, "Tell us."

He stared at Cagalli, and she looked slightly nervous. Now was not the time to talk about her looking like a boy and he manhandling her and attempting to kill her with his knife, only to have her firing at him and then tending to his injuries with very little on under the blanket he had given her.

"We met during the war," Athrun replied evenly, looking at Cagalli, "Her brother is my best friend, childhood playmates, actually, so we naturally met when I was aboard the Archangel."

Vague enough and highly politically-correct. He had left out the significant defection and the attempts to murder the woman sitting next to him at that very point.

"I see," the vice-chairman echoed thoughtfully, turning his attention to them instead of ogling at some people across with a telescope each person had been given in the opera theathre, "That was the first time both of you met?"

"Yes," Cagalli said hastily, lying through her teeth. Shiho glanced at her, wondering why Cagalli looked so ill at ease.

"Love at first sight?" Shiho wondered, "Or hate at first sight?"

Yzak caught her eye and they both grimaced, fully aware that they were guilty of the latter.

"How unexpected," the lady sighed, putting a fair hand on her cheek, "With such an exciting couple as the Chairman and the Princess, I expected something more-,"

They anxiously watched her search for a word to describe them, and the vice-chairman offered graciously, "Romantic?"

"Not exactly," The lady said haplessly, "I don't have a word for it either, but something to that extent, thank you sir."

Yzak, very thankfully, said nothing. Shiho didn't either, but then she never did, so it was a bit of a relief there.

Athrun glanced at Cagalli and noticed that she was trying not to laugh at the bvlatant lies they were all telling. She was very beautiful, sitting next to him with the sword slightly adjusted for better comfort, both of them had those to handle for the full impact of dramatic effect to take place, and the chains on her creamy shoulders were slipping off in a mandatory fashion, framing the roundness of her shoulders and seeming to invite him to rest his head in the cradle between those and her jaw, just enough for his lips to feel the skin of her neck.

He cleared his throat slightly. Now was not the time to think of anything but how they would carry themselves through the night. And all the same, Athrun thought regretfully, he wished it wouldn't end, because once the magic and allure of the night was over, she would go back to ORB and he'd be forced to make his decision and leave her alone in the most absolute sense of the word.

She was fidgeting slightly, and he wondered if she was thinking about the same. He did not know that she felt like blushing every time she looked at him, but that may habe been better for both of them, Cagalli thought shamefully, lowering her head a bit. Shiho was looking at a box at the far end with her scope, and Cagalli, for curiousity's satisfaction, did the same.

"Lady Joule?" She asked quietly.

"Correct," Shiho replied as silently, eyes still trained on the particular box that contained the most well-known political leaders of PLANT, "She knows we're looking at her."

"But she doesn't have a scope with her!" Cagalli remarked, a bit surprised, and Shiho chuckled and replied calmly, "She knows the whole world is looking at her. Her posture is perfect, her smile is in place, and her head is turned towards us."

"Or Commander Joule?" Cagalli whispered, putting her scope down and glancing at Yzak. His eyes were focused on the programme, and he was reading very fast, as if to fill his boredom. She glanced at Athrun, Athrun was explaining something to the Vice-chairman.

"Maybe," Shiho answered quietly, "But she still knows somebody is watching her at least."

Then the lights faded completely and there was a collective gasp from the audience as the curtains were drawn and an orchestra in the pit began to play, the conductor graceful and skilled.

An opera singer rose from a mechanic depression in the middle of the stage and his lips parted, releasing a stream of pure sound that filled the entire hall and reverberated magnificently. They applauded, an immense, explosive sound, and he began her aria.

"German Opera," Shiho explained quietly in her signature emotionless way, "A bit different from the classic Italian Opera, but still-,"

She paused, and Yzak, Cagalli and Athrun turned to see her smiling gently, her voice filled with warmth and a slightest hint of the German accent, "My father liked this one. Die Zauberflöte-The Magic Flute."

They watched in awe as singer after singer made the entrace, backed-up by an enormous chorus and the orchestra went into a frenzy, the strings constantly played across from magnificent sweeps with vibrato to light plucking and the brasses booming splendidly or quavering beautifully depending which passages they were hearing.

At a certain point of the second act, the Queen of the Night rose and sang her aria, glittering in a blinding swarm of black jewels and a high, pointed crown resting on her head. Du Maurier had fought, singular and battle after battle, to get her to wear his design. Cagalli felt as if her blood would be drawn out into a sword from her chest, the sound resonated so much that she was irrisiestably compelled to hear it, to listen, to listen, to listen. She wasn't a trained ear, she'd forced her way out of almost every piano lesson they'd imposed on her in favour of self-defence classes and fencing, yet, she knew the basics but little more than that, but the grandiose, fast-paced tunes of the aria and the lyrical depth, Cagalli understood at least, and she knew it was an immensely difficult aria.

"Wonderful, isn't it?" She said breathlessly at Athrun. He nodded silently, looking at her.

"Der Hölle Rache kocht in meinem Herzen, Hell's vengeance boils in my heart," Shiho translated simply as Cagalli looked at her with shining eyes, "Roughly, that's what it means."

"Is that it now?" Yzak said in a queer trance, a stroke of chattiness suddenly erupting, watching the opera singer attack note after note, "And this is the highlight I suppose? For the maddened Queen to sing? To induce a murder of Sarastro?"

"Correct," Shiho answered, entirely mesmerised like the rest of the box.

"I wonder then," Yzak said slyly, but all the same, in a very sharp manner, "Does anyone sing it at the court during a divorce?"

He watched as Athrun and Cagalli jerked stiff and looked at the opera singer more intensely than ever. The others were chuckling appreciatively at his comment, but that was not the crux, their reactions were not as significant to Yzak as what he was looking out for.

"No," Shiho said without any ado, her lips twitching with merriment, "But that's a consideration."

She looked at Yzak grinned at him, and he smiled gallantly at her, but his eyes were still sharp and focused on Athrun's slightly pale face and Cagalli's wide eyes. He closed his own briefly, running thought everything that he had with him, and finally pieced it; but it was an unstable jigsaw, there was little backing for it even though the pieces were nearly in place.

Not many would have noticed, but Yzak Joule was used to putting two and two together.


	28. Chapter 28

Disclaimer: I do not own GS/GSD. R&R please.

* * *

Chapter 28 

Shinn was lounging around the corner, talking to a group of his friends, all of them looking splendid and very well-turned out for the night. He spotted Meyrin talking to some people he vaguely recognized as politicians' assistants and a few of themselves hanging around her, and most of them were looking admirably at Meyrin. Grinning widely, he shouted, "Hey! Kiddo!"

She turned around, spotted the offender and flashed him a brilliant smile and waved cheerily, and he did the same. They had always been good friends, even at the point when Shinn had lost his head and once tried to convince her to fall in love with him. But she refused to, she would just laugh and tell him he was a riot, albeit one that she enjoyed being with. And then he found, suddenly and very unexpectedly one day, that he had taken her rejection in his stride a very long time ago, that he had only been fooling around with her, that is, if they had even started a relationship or not. And at that time, to Shinn, girls were there for company, not actual beings, more the transient, fleeting folly-makers that should not have interferred with his goals. And when war started, he never thought of anything but his immediate survival and the lust for revenge, and that had been all consuming.

"Who's that?" his friend asked, and Youlant glanced at Shinn with a sardonic smile in his eyes, chuckled and said slowly, "She's out of your league."

And then Shinn glanced around the dance halls where the orchestra was now weaving its symphony on the looms of strings, brasses and woodwinds, and he spotted familiar faces, the ghosts of the people he had loved and had wanted to protect.

He could imagine Chairman Dullindal, his flashing, ready smile illuminating his eyes and his dark hair enigmatic about his pointed, good-looking features, and Captain Gladys, at ease with the world as she often was, somehow free from the duties she had quietly burdened for so long, dancing and laughing the way so few had heard her do. Rey was standing by the side, quiet and handsome, regal but somehow apart from the rest of them, but he looked silently at Shinn and smiled. Shinn smiled back.

The honourable ORB warrior, the captain who had saved him, how much Shinn wanted to run to him and ask to be forgiven. Instead, he smiled to the distant ghosts, the past, if he went to them, they would surely disappear...

And Stellar, how lovely a child she had been. Her demented nature had taken him by shock once, but he knew, without Athrun's confirmation, that the best in her had been brought out by none other than Shinn himself. The dimmed lights in the hall were illuminating her golden hair, pale and lovely, and there was a wistful smile as she danced alone, the way she had, free-spirited and unposessed by any man, except for the one demon, war. And now she was unbound from that, she pirouetted and smiled at Shinn, and he closed his eyes briefly, lost in his own world as the colourful menagerie of people around him chattered on and lost themselves to the frivolities of the music and dance. And when he opened them again, they were all gone, all those ghosts of the past.

_I never thought Death had so many undone._

His eyes however, fell on a live, breathing human being, and with a shock that jolted through his entire body, making his knees tingle a little, he realised with some fear, that it was the very human he had sought to hurt, consciously, and had most probably managed to. She was dancing, laughing at her partner's joke, and the grey of her down and the white of her breast, made even more pure by the chains on her arms made Shinn stare, a long time and for the long minutes of a long moment, at Cagalli Yula Atha.

There were hundreds of couples dancing on the floor, many more being led there by their partners and there was laughter and smiles, the general buzz of light conversation everywhere even as they waltzed. Of course, Shinn thought ruefully, not everyone knew how to waltz, but that didn't matter as much as not having a partner. Lunamaria was in another man's arms, but he realised with a little of what seemed like regret, that he didn't quite care.

"Hey, Meyrin!" He called loudly over the area, and scarcely anyone noticed except her and the group of people she was with because the hall was so immensely filled, although not congested. "Care for a dance?"

"I would, with you," She laughed, and he swiftly strode over, grabbed her hand, and swirled her directly amidst the many couples. Most of them, he didn't recognize, but there were some friends amongst them who shot him envious looks, not quite realizing that Meyrin Hawke was a girl and his friend but unfortunately or fortunately not his girlfriend.

"They're glaring," He offered snidely when she fixed her questioning azure gaze on his dull red eyes, bright though, in his mannerisms and reflected in her own.

She smiled slyly, bringing him closer to avoid the trouble of his companions asking for dances later, and said softly, "Imagine, you've kissed both the Hawke sisters. I wonder what your associates would say. Or rather, do."

The answer lay mischieviously in her eyes and the air. And Shinn imagined a black eye or two.

"Touché," he chuckled.

They waltzed a bit more, and his eyes wandered to the other couples. He spotted the Commander Joule at the far end, and his eyes widened, he was recalling the unit that had singularly slashed through unit after unit of the enemy's side in a bid to segregate the pieces of the falling memorial Junius Seven had been. The man, tall and striking, was smiling quite pleasantly, similar to the Major on his arm, and subsequently nodding graciously to the PLANT leaders who acknowledged them as they moved by.

"Hell's going to freeze over," Shinn muttered, and Meyrin didn't catch it, but asked politely, "Sorry, I didn't hear that properly, want to repeat it?"

"Nothing," he said quickly, his eyes darting like fishes in water, "I say," he exclaimed, spotting another familiar face, "Is Athrun there?"

The couples were a blinding renaissance of colour, fabrics and faces, and each time they took a step, the couples around them shifted, shuffled and some completely vanished into a different part of the behemoth room altogether.

"Oh," Meyrin said, turning slightly so she could see as they twisted a bit for a better view, "Yes, you're absolutely correct, and that's Cagalli he's dancing with, obviously."

He could see this now, and clearly too. Oh, Shinn could see very clearly, the girl, no woman, he had despised without quite knowing why, and the same woman he was now openly staring at, feeling a stir of something he knew to not be hatred but regret and something else that he could not quite identify entirely.

Meyrin, innocent and guiless, grinned at his sincerity, his signature child-like ways but depth in his actions, even his handsome, boyish face held some knowing look when she had been caught searching for Athrun Zala's information on the Minerva data base.

"Cagalli's his, and he, without saying it, wants to prove this to the rest of the world," she explained briefly, twirling like the rest of the couples and continuing the sequence, not well-trained, but sharp enough to imitate the women around her, "She's very beautiful," Meyrin added wistfully, "And they deserve each other."

He grinned, knowing what her heart felt, but gratefully did not say anything more, and the stirring of the strings, vibrant and spirited, signaled a change of partners. She spun into another man's ready arms and likewise, Shinn caught hold of a lady from EA's government.

"Later!" He called to her as they were both swept off, and Meyrin mock-saluted back with one hand, the other already taken by her dancing partner's hand.

Meanwhile, Cagalli, absolutely clueless on the ongoing conversation at the extreme end of the hall where Shinn and Meyrin had been, was listlessly being steered by the PLANT Research and Development Board's head. He was a nice man, no doubt, eager to make conversation and highly animated, talking with a slight bounce in his step and an expert dancer. It was easy to smile, be courteous, and give half-hearted answers. And she started to regret her decision of avoiding Athrun straight after the dancing had begun, she'd started with Kira, Lacus engaged with a member of her parliament, and he'd exchanged her for someone else and another, and then the last woman for Lacus, where he was still dancing with her.

"Like jumping on toadstools in a planned route to get to the flower," She thought amusedly. Her twin was a real handful.

And throughout the entire time, she was aware that Athrun's eyes were boring into her, no matter where he was in the place. She'd come dangerously close to being near to him when she had danced with the third man after Kira, the Deputy Head of Social Defense from PLANT, and he had almost let go of the lady he had been dancing with to make a wild snatch at her, but she'd somehow twirled, almost as gracefully as she did it unconsciously, and averted his grasp. And now, she was with another person, and he with another.

What she did not know, was that Athrun was charming every single woman he was dancing with and those around him were eager to step in when they had a switch of partners, and this was precisely his strategy. The females blushed each time he took them by the hand and waist very gallantly, and those around were more eager than ever for the next shuffle, and did not refuse to switch at any interval. He was like the centre of a kaleidoscope, moving each piece skillfully around him and switching each one to another region of the room, and he'd do this until he got to his goal.

"How old are you, Miss Atha?" The Head of Research and Development was asking her curiously.

She watched the woman behind him for a second, the jewels in her hair had been teasing her eyes, and distracted, she turned back to the man she was dancing with.

"Twenty-four this year," she answered unabashedly, and he gave a low, long whistle and replied admiringly, "Which means to say you took the reins of ORB when you were eighteen or nineteen! I must say, you were so young but so able and determined, golly. "

Her eyebrows raised and she found herself half-giggling at his enthusiasm and vibrant way of speaking, no doubt, the outfit of a minstrel suited him very much.

"I thank you for the compliment," she smiled, "And I heard you've broken a new frontier for the speed manipulation of general machines in Morgenroete?"

"You embarrass me," he chuckled, his hand on her waist begin to shake with his laughter, "I headed the project, but I had a team of nearly two-hundred, highly dedicated and intelligent researchers under me. They are truly more competent than I will ever be," and he gave her a very humble smile, and she found herself liking him even more.

"Erica has met you, yes?" Cagalli asked curiously, her feet never resting but constantly in motion and in line with his step. The couples around were engaging in conversations like hers, there were very little chances of them being able to concentrate on anybody else's but their own.

"Why, surely so!" The elderly man exclaimed his eyes bright, "She was invaluable to the research, and she mentioned you a few times, although not to me, but to some trainees she was trying to toughen up."

"Oh," Cagalli said cheerfully, "Must be the hours of simulations she was referring to."

They laughed, enjoying each other's company immensely and the moment, and then, all too soon, the couples were being shuffled again, and his hand was suddenly lifted off from her waist and the other unclasped from her left hand, and she was being whirled into another's arms, a person who had stepped right in and caught her, and she looked up and saw emerald. She had been far too distracted with her partner to notice the people around them, and now she would pay the price for not being on guard.

"Enjoying yourself?" Athrun asked dryly, his hand securely on her waist and the other waiting for her to respond. And she realized she had been so startled at the way her former partner had spun her off, that both hands were firmly atop Athrun's chest, and she mumbled something incoherently and reluctantly gave him one to hold as they began their waltz.

They danced in a sort of queer silence as the noise around them seemed to envelop into an orchestra of blinding colors, dazzling jewels and textures that threatened to fade everything into oblivion. And the black, white, and grey of both of them contrasted but complimented, and they seemed to be the lone thread in the tapestry that was left undyed.

"I er-think you look very handsome," she offered helplessly, fishing around to try and join back into the mood of the hall.

"I don't have to think," He responded lightly, looking the same but she could sense his pleasure, "I know you're beautiful."

"Oh," she said in warm surprise and her cheeks pink, quite forgetting this was part of the pretense and the attempt to blend into the cordial night of compliment-exchanging and warm smiles. Her heart fluttered at his words, and her hands shook slightly upon his arms when she knew his gaze, intense emerald, was upon her, like an ensnaring, terrible forest of posessive desire. And he looked at her with a soft triumph in his eyes, she had never learnt how to accept his compliments with fluid grace or dignity, instead, she lost her polish and became raw and uncovered for him. And he relished this now, as badly as he had in the past.

He paused to stare at her even though he kept their feet busy. He had been aware, all along, that she was reluctant to come too near him, and he was starting to know why. He was having the same, entirely identical reaction to her proximity, the only difference being that she denied it and he embraced it. And Athrun knew he was being a fool, this would potentially being havoc to their entire lineup and wreck him again, more than he already was, but he could scarcely help it.

"Remember the last time we danced?" Cagalli asked in a low voice.

He remembered. Of course he did. The way her eyes had been narrowed amber, the look of anger in her flushed face and rosy cheeks when he had forced her to, and the defiant tilt of her delicate jaw, all that haunted him at night, pursued him in his dreams, how could he not?

She was waiting for an answer. "Yes," He replied simply.

"I-I didn't mean for it to become like that," Cagalli offered awkwardly, not quite sure of how to apologies, but the dance they were engaged in, it spurred so many memories and so few good ones that she felt like she had to undo some unseen knot.

"You've always been rebellious," Athrun interrupted emotionlessly, twirling her and mutely knowing that her gown was swishing against him darkly like a veil across some perilous secret her body held, "I know you to be that."

So he had prevented her from apologizing, in this way doing what she had wanted to do- say she was sorry. And he had done that in his own way, what more could she offer?

"Thank you," she said gratefully and very quietly, he however, simply remained impassive but she knew he smiled when they made a turn while the orchestra played on.

"When this is over," Cagalli said eventually, wondering what it would feel like to have the weight of his hand on her waist removed, the fingers locked in the partitions of her own hand unlocked, and his emerald eyes far apart from the gaze of her own eyes, "I hope we will always be able to talk to each other like this."

He had imagined, for just a second of wild, unimaginable hope, that she had meant the dance, and he was bitterly disappointed. But he hid it well and smiled wanly, not caring to reply, however.

When they vaguely noticed that the couples around them were disintegrating and reforming in different pairs, she inhaled deeply, as if this was the last time she would ever be so close to him, to sense him, to feel him, to know him, and let go of his hand and lifted her other hand off his shoulder.

Another man was standing by, ready to hold her once Athrun let go for another dance, and she closed her eyes tightly and waited, knowing that this was a start of something she had brought upon themselves, and the end of something she had wanted to so badly. But then, the weight of his hand on her waist never lifted, and his free hand suddenly wrapped itself around her waist, joining his other hand, and she was immediately pressed very close to him, almost an embrace, but not quite, and startled, her hands flew to his shoulders for support.

"Er, Chairman?" the person who was waiting inquired a bit curiously.

"My apologies to disappoint you, sir," Athrun said calmly, almost as if he had expected this, "I won't be changing my dance partner for this whole evening. But you understand, of course, and if you'll excuse us." He gave a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, and the 'excuse us' would have been more accurately said as 'excuse _you_'.

The man backed away, muttering, "I understand."

They watched him resume dancing with his previous partner, and they did the same too, although this was mostly Athrun's doing, and when Cagalli managed to find her tongue, she was flustered.

"Why'd you do that?" She cried in a hushed whisper.

"You're still mine for the rest of the evening," He told her in the same level of volume she'd used, quite unconscious of the fierce expression in his eyes and voice, "And you need to keep that in mind."

It was useless trying to argue, she realized, his hands were firmly planted, and if she struggled, that'd be unnatural and somehow, she found that she wanted to be there. Her arms found their way to his shoulders, and he relaxed a little, losing some tension both of them had shared, and the moment was complete.

Shinn, at the other end of the room, saw this, although he couldn't hear what the exchange had been. And somehow, his eyes narrowed.

"I'm sorry," Athrun whispered a while later, although he knew a fragment of the fit of posessiveness that had overcome him mere minutes ago still remained in his chest even while Athrun still directed their feet in a slow movement, "I'm being such a prize mutt."

She looked at him with distrust in her eyes, but he looked back at her with such contrite sincerity that she found herself relaxing into him.

"It's alright," Cagalli replied, suddenly not minding at all, "It's not like you to be cold or impolite, and you weren't exactly any of those anyway, I know you were just trying to keep us in the right frames."

She did not mention, however, that he was known to be both cold and impolite, and quite well-practised in this manner, in fact.

He refrained from comment, but inside, he knew that his cold, impolite demeanor was never really displayed for her; he was always just Athrun for her, always. And what had made him so possessive over her? He asked himself this as they quietly moved amidst the rest, and then he knew. The selfishness of not wanting to share any part of her when all he had was less than a night left, and the knowledge of what would happen if he allowed this dance to end along with the charade.

At the end of the night, when the event was officially at its end and the guests were milling put, still graceful and immaculately dressed with the crowds of photographers and media hounds surrounding them and swarming for interviews and such, Athrun silently led Cagalli out.

A host of reporters swarmed up to them, and he imagined they would ask about the events they had enjoyed and the most titillating aspect of the night. He prepared himself and knew she was doing the same, the slight stiffening of her shoulders, the careful steps she took, those he recognized entirely.

"Chairman," one asked wildly, "What was it about tonight's glamorous event that you enjoyed best?"

He considered everything but looked at Cagalli, silent and smiling next to him, and answered readily, "Being with her."

There were gasps of admiration and coos here and there, but the good thing was that the other guests, or at least, the more high-profile ones, were being engaged in similar activities and interviews of various leading newspapers in PLANT.

"Wonderful," another remarked, scribbling furiously, "And Miss Atha?"

She smiled, a strange, sweet, shy smile they had never seen, and they were spellbound when she answered, "Seeing everyone again."

It wasn't quite the answer they would have expected, especially after Athrun had given his, but her smile more than made them forget what she was saying, they were staring at her, enraptured, until one began to write and there was a flurry of activity all over again.

"If that's it," Athrun began to say politely, "Then we're going to-,"

"No, wait," one rat-faced, very tall reporter interrupted, "The citizens of PLANT want to know if the Chairman Zala and the ORB Supreme Commander have been experiencing marital problems."

There was an audible gasp from the rest of the reporters, and suddenly, it was tense and every reporter even some guests had stopped replying to the reporters and were turning around, almost as if they hadn't been listening to whatever they were engaged in previously, just waiting, Athrun thought dully, waiting like hyenas to pounce.

Cagalli had grown wan and pale, and her eyes were narrowed in distrust and some apprehension. He was suddenly enraged, he would never have a reporter ruining everything they had shared tonight, bringing down everything he wanted to keep of her, demeaning every last drop of happiness and complete bliss he remembered with an ugly scar of an interrogation neither of them wanted to have. The question would force them to drop the charade, edge them into revealing what she was still not ready to reveal, and neither was he. If only they had left before all this, Athrun thought angrily, then the chance of having her entirely to him for the memories that she meant to him would have been there.

They hadn't planned for this.

"Look," He said, unimaginably angered, and the reporters shrank and flinched; they hadn't seen him in a cold raging anger like this ever before, "You're pushing the boundary and I have absolutely no incentive to pursue this anymore than filing a direct lawsuit. If need be, the consequences can be as-,"

"There's never been a moment," Cagalli interrupted abruptly, her eyes fixated on the offending reporter, and the rest were suddenly busy with their papers and pencils again, and the cameras blinking and recording what she was saying, "There's never been a moment when I haven't loved the Chairman."

She stared at them fiercely and then, as if whatever had possessed her had taken leave of her body, her head slumped down and she glanced at her feet, willing her legs not to become unstable.

A silence filled the area, and some people began to applaud, but another reporter piped up, "Then why was there a sudden need to rush to PLANT and the lack of any contact during the past half year or even seven months now?"

Athrun wanted to speak, he wasn't prepared for this, but he knew he'd fight for them, he'd fight for her, but she faced them all, suddenly, this was her battle and she was prepared to take them down, every single damned one of them.

"I told him to," Cagalli answered roughly, no longer polished and composed but passionate and wild, "If PLANT wants him to oversee this, he must do it as best as he can, and I wanted him to stay but I knew he'd be needed."

"You're very honorable, Princess," one spoke up loudly, and a stab of cold dread hit her in her gut. Lies, all lies.

"T hank you," she said finally, "And if that's all, we'll leave it at that."

She raised her hand in acknowledgement and a new pit of fear and self-loathing seeped into her as the ring Athrun had placed on her finger for that evening glinted brilliantly and caught the light and the attention of many.

"Last question," someone at the back shouted, "When will Chairman Zala return to ORB?"

"That's for PLANT's High Council to decide," Athrun spoke up firmly, his eyes cold. He took her by the hand and led her away to rapturous applause. Lacus looked pleased and Kira silently proud but his eyes were a bit distant, as if he was thinking very hard, and it made Athrun want to wretch at the betrayal of trust.

A pack of lies they had both told, and now they were caught in it, hopelessly raveled in the implications of what they had tried to do for just this night and this one time.

When they reached the house in December, it was half an hour past midnight and she had removed the sword, mail gloves and chains, he with his own sword and his heavy cloak, to Du Maurier's assistants back in Aprilius to facilitate the traveling. They'd been silent again.

She had gotten into a bathroom and washed the light makeup off her face, now her lips were less red and more rose, and he'd similarly brushed his teeth and washed his face.

But they didn't turn in, they both ended up sitting where they'd sat, a day ago, in the sweltering afternoon heat, the difference being that they were cloaked in the night, brilliant stars, more dazzling and heartbreakingly beautiful than any of the jewels anyone had worn that night, and in their pajamas. Hers were soft flannel and he wore his normal shirt and light pants, and they gazed at the heavens but did not speak for a very long time.

They had faced two decisions at the onslaught of the interrogations. The first, to reveal what they had gone through and allow the truth to be told that they would be apart shortly after this, thereby cutting short his happiness of the night and rendering them officially apart.

The second, to vehemently deny things and prolong the night's peaceful languor but end up suffering in silence and the cloak of lies that would become thicker and more enveloping.

They'd chosen the second.

And finally, she spoke.

"I'll leave in the morning and we'll see what the future holds for us."

Her words were roaring in his ears and he gripped the chair's arm and felt as numb as he had when he had killed his first man and came out from a daze with his throat raw from screaming with terror.

"Don't be ridiculous," he wanted to spit at her, "There's nothing if I don't have-,"

"-You truly believe so?" Athrun responded lightly, tracing the arm of the chair he had only just vacated. How contrary his voice was to his emotions. He thought this dully and found he could not meet her eyes.

"I do," she said without hesitation, "It's for the better, and the only thing we have to remember is that one day we'll be ready to tell the truth to the world and the other is of the good memories we had."

She suddenly sprang out from her chair and rashly cuddled against him like a cat that was yearning for a pat on its head, and he fought the urge to touch her, but thankfully, the torment stopped an instant later as she stared at him and said gently, "Thank you for everything, I'm truly indebted."

'If you are,' he thought tightly, 'Don't go.'

"My pleasure," He replied calmly, and she grinned at him.

How could she be so cruel?

How could be so mute like this?

And Athrun wondered if she could even sense the pain his body was being washed upon with, but he glanced at the darkness in the distance and nodded dully and briefly to show that he had understood her words.

She stood and moved slightly closer to him, and then she tiptoed and kissed him lightly on the cheek, careful not to look into his eyes or put her arms around his neck. He would have liked either, he would have liked to break through the restraint of his will to place his hands on her, at the small of her back, at the nape of her white neck, to ravish her lips senseless and to hold her, just hold her, but he couldn't have anything more than this, and he couldn't have her in any case.

"Goodnight," she said finally, smiling with trust and a childlike innocence in her eyes, and he nodded, too wracked with pain to speak. He could not trust himself to articulate, and he promised himself that he would never take advantage of that trust.


	29. Chapter 29

Chapter 29

When he'd brought her to the shuttle grounds, the bodyguards already boarded and doing the relevant checks, he had unwinded the roof of the car as the sun slowly rose and bathed the world that it resembled the orange and red glasses of a church chapel.

The one they had gotten married in.

"I'll be leaving now," She told him slowly, as the wind gleefully swept in and tried to make them go with it but suceeded in lifting only their hair and pressing their clothes against them in a single direction. Athrun nodded, and she noticed then, that his hands were still tight on the steering wheel.

Cagalli swallowed. If she chose to step out to board now, what would she forgo?

"Here- I should return you this," And she held her hand out, waited for him to mimic her and dropped a band of silver into his outstretched palm, and he silently put it in his pocket, and she was reminded of why silence had so many variations, so many kinds of notes and nuances like those symphonies.

"I really enjoyed myself here," Cagalli said finally, "And I have you to thank."

"No matter," He said automatically, feeling rather wistful suddenly. He had woken her up in the wee hours of the morning so she would catch her flight on time, and it had resulted in both of them surviving the night with only a few hours of sleep each, granting the fact that they had returned to the house close to midnight. She was with him now, suited in the Emir attire, but had taken off the jacket and revealed the white, high collared blouse underneath it, tightly knitted at her throat and exposing nothing, as if a perilious secret was being guarded. He smiled wryly and thought this was probably accurate, and the memory of his dreams came back to haunt him now as he stared hard at her, her hair loose and soft and her lips shyly placed.

She looked slightly nervous."I don't know what to say, I-."

But her voice trailed off and she found that she couldn't continue, and therefore she sighed and murmured that she would best be going, and unlocked the door and brought herself out. The luggage had already been fetched by the bodyguards; she would only have herself and Athrun to worry about.

"Cagalli," He called softly, and she turned around, surprised to see that he had gotten out and was standing a slight distance behind her.

His voice was nearly lost to the wind, termulous and soaring but steady in its pain and acceptance.

"I'll always-,"

The wind brought her the last of his words. And they stood; a distance from each other, apart, and she knew she was ready to bolt if he came near. But he didn't.

And Athrun didn't say this like the way she had once dreamt he'd do, with a shout in his voice and his eyes bright and filled with that kind of passion that froze her in its dazzling strength. His eyes were hollow, and she knew there was a roughness in his voice that wasn't natural, manifested even when his speech was slow, tired and very strained. And she had once wished that he would lose his inhabitations and be as free-spirited as her, shout those words, proclaim them to the world, proclaim them to her, she wanted to be the world, she wanted to be his world, and now those words brought them both pain.

He was standing very rooted, very proud and lithe, panther-like in his profile, like his training had forced him to stand upright so much that he would not even allow the slightest show of weakness in his posture, but she knew he was breaking inside. She knew this because she was.

And she froze, he had never said that to her before, he'd always chosen to demonstrate it in that shy, awkward manner that was unique to him, and yet, he was saying it now, saying it as they parted. 'Too late,' She thought morosely, and turned around properly so she was facing him, absolute and full.

"Why didn't you tell me that until just?" She whispered, and he strained to hear. As it was, the wind was howling her frustration for them both.

"I mean," She said softly, and then she adjusted her volume and hollered so he could hear, "Thank you!"

With just the right amount of brightness and cheerful lilt, the kind like a song. The right ingredients for the right dish, the right notes for the right sound, it was almost like he had complimented her if someone had only heard her reply and not known what he had first said.

His expression faltered so slightly that she thought it was a trick of her eyes, but he waved and she imitated him with just the perfect amount of vigor and enthusiasm unlike his somber stance, and both turned back to the directions they were bound for, and when she couldn't help realising it was the opposite direction, she fiercely forced her feet forward and away from him.

"A chapter of my life has ended," She said quietly to the wind, "And it's ended with him."

It whistled to her, but offered no advice, which was more comforting than the thought of picking a date to tell the world the very same thing that she had so simply told the wind. A few tears were stripped away from her eyes and cheeks with the gusts that rose around her as the sun lingered beyond and insistently grew, and she was thankful for her control. Tears meant very little to him, she didn't need sympathy from anyone. She was too proud and too infallible for those things.

How many times had she told him that she had loved him?

Once, when he was asleep and she lay awake and against him, hearing his heart beat steadily, uncompromising in its rhythm and steady tranquility as his bare, sinewy arms had shielded her against him as they had curled beneath the thick comfort of the sheets, protecting them against the silently falling snow of Berlin's winter. She hadn't had the courage or nerve to tell him when he was awake; it was difficult for the right words to be formed and too simplistic with just three words.

Once when she had tripped down the stairs in ORB and he had somehow been walking up as she had been coming down and caught her but broke her fall by her landing entirely on him. He had grunted in pain and she had apologized until he got irritated with assuring her that he hadn't broken anything except her fall and that he was perfectly aware that he was planning to do that, and then she'd meekly muttered, "I- love you."

"What?" He asked incredulously, not quite hearing properly, and she'd coloured like a nicely-cooked crab and replied furiously, "I said I didn't mean to fall on you!"

He never forced her to repeat what she had actually said even though he thought he had heard otherwise and he had been correct; he was too awkward. And she never offered; she was too shy and too sure that he understood her in spite of her pride and inability to tell him.

Another time when it had been raining with heavy thunderstorms and she'd simply curled up on a couch in the house and stared out of the window, her back pressed against his chest as they peered out while resting comfortably on the seat. They had played a lazy sort of game where he would say one thing he had never done before that she knew about, and she would have to reply with a thing that she had done that he didn't know about.

"Combed with a parting on the other side," He said decidedly, and she laughed, he was right. She had told him that before.

"Said I loved you," She replied vaguely, but he had been distracted by the phone that was ringing, Lacus calling to talk about something.

And he? He'd never said that to her, but she never held a grudge, although she'd wondered if he had started falling out of love with her after he'd taken her home from the hospital in PLANT. The shame and stigma of losing what he had wanted so badly had gnawed at her night after night, and she had longed for him to hold her near, but he had, for most of the time then, ignored her until the emptiness was something better than seeing him and feeling that familiar, dull ache of being someone he saw but didn't _see_.

And she was too proud to say now that she might have still loved him.

"Cagalli," Rainie was telling her suddenly, "Do you mind signing these?"

She snapped out of her reverie- a month had already passed and there she was thinking about the sunrise and the way he'd yelled that he would always love her when she had been there in PLANT for them to stage their charade.

"Sorry," She apologised quickly, turning back from the window where it reflected some passing lightning and the grey skies of rain and bleakly-coloured buildings illuminated by the flashes, "I was getting a bit distracted."

The girl laughed, shaking her head hastily, "No, I just came in, don't worry. And really," Her gaze grew wistful, "I know how you feel."

"How?" Cagalli asked a bit sharply, panicking for a instant. Had she verbalised her thoughts?

"I'd love to go home, get a nice mug of hot chocolate, curl up with my cat on my knee and sleep in this weather," Rainie replied absently and a bit sleepily, her eyes half-shaded with a sweet longing and a vagueness in her voice that befitted the weather outside the office.

She sighed in relief and looked up, smiling. "Let's see, we can finish this, and then we'll all go back early and have a long weekend of say, five extra hours to this week?"

Rainie's eyes became saucers and she cheered in her glee, mingling Cagalli's chuckles with her own raucous whoops of joy and approval.

"And you've seen these, of course," Rainie interrupted cheerfully, holding up paper clippings, "The PLANT media must really like you or Athrun, they've written really flattering stories of you both at the event, even the photographs are as flattering as they can get!"

Cagalli paused and stared at a large picture of herself being led by Athrun, his eyes sharp and pointed as he glared at someone at the side, maybe a reporter? And she was following blindly without choice, he was leading her, but her shoulders were not tense and she knew then, as she stared at the image of herself, that she trusted him.

"You look so beautiful!" Rainie gushed, emotional and hyper, "I couldn't stop talking to Vino about you."  
"Really?" Cagalli said in amusement, "I think it's mostly Du Maurier's flair for this sort of thing, he's received a huge heap of good publicity after this event. Kira happened to remark that his clothes were the only ones he had worn beside his usual ones and the uniforms, and there's been a huge increase in demand for Du Maurier everywhere. What most of them don't realise however," She grinned ruefully, "Is that Kira literally meant that he has no other clothes than the usual ones he's had for a long time and the uniforms, not so much that Du Maurier's is his preferred choice."

She stretched as she finished off her work and took her plum-coloured jacket with her. "The car?"

"Waiting for you," Rainie chirped as she opened the door for Cagalli to step through," And," she winked, "Enjoy your weekend."  
"Same," Cagalli mimicked, grinning wickedly. And Rainie hugged her suddenly, causing her lips to part in surprise as a soft sound of surprise escaped. Rainie was such a child.

By the time she reached the house, she was regretting her decision. She had, basically, only time to kill now. Her books were all well-read, and nothing seemed to occupy enough of the time she had gained from finishing early, and feeling a bit perturbed at the loneliness in the house since the part-time housekeeper had just made her weekly rounds only yesterday, she found herself walking aimlessly around the house she had lived in all her life.

She paused at each one and went in. Her father's bedroom, large, spacious, a bit empty with most of his belongings removed by Kisaka who had acted on his will so he would always remain as her father and not some mysterious, important politician, and a few chests, empty, unlocked, lying here and there.

The next room had been Mana's, it was somehow, filled with all the pictures of Cagalli as a child and one particularly large one of her scowling threateningly in a frock. Her first time wearing one as frilly as this, she thought fondly, and knew Mana was enjoying herself tremendously at the orphanage where she had more children to boss around.

And their room, she hadn't gone in that one for so long, it was empty too, except for the usual things, the desk, the chairs, the bed. She had slept alone inside here for so much of the time when she had came back from the hospital, and Athrun had insisted on sleeping in his old room, but then she had been to broken and weak to ask why he was doing this. And then as time went by, she found that once he had left the house and ORB, she could no longer stay here for more than a few minutes and had started sleeping in her childhood bedroom.

She left quickly and peered into it. It was a strange world, some schoolbooks here and there, a large cupboard with her old clothes she had outgrown but hadn't been able to throw away due to Mana's sentimental attachment, and now, her uniform laid out on the chair and the desk filled with her work things and the bed a bit small but sufficient and single.

A peep into another room revealed something almost like her father's but a lingering knowledge that Athrun had once lived here. It wasn't a very large room, but then bodyguards didn't need that sort of space, and Athrun was perfectly capable of holing up here, he'd told her he'd lived in a cupboard for a week when he had been sent to spy on some mission and had been discovered and forced to flee and hide.

She sat heavily on it and wondered what would happen next. Outside, the rain was still pouring.

Then she leant back and slipped her hand into the little gap between Athrun's bed and the wall, and felt something prodding at her fingers and pulled an envelope out. Before she could wonder what was in it, glossy, although a bit dusty photographs spilled out in still colours and snapshots, and she picked them up, frowning, and then with a gasp, the realisation of what they were struck at her like a blow. Photographs she had taken with him, their honeymoon, some of her and Kira smiling and waving to the camera and one with Lacus hugging her and she tickling Lacus mercilessly, and a few of them with Athrun, so many she couldn't remember exactly where they had been taken.

For a while, she sat, trying hard, trying very hard.

Then she got up, went to the shower and stood under it for a long while, feeling the water run down her cheeks in a bid, in a miserable, desperate bid.

When she could finally turn off the tap and feel the last of the water drip down, she got out, took off her wet clothes and put on new ones mechanically, methodically. The glossy memories stared up at her, smiling, mocking, teasing, shouting hurtful things to her and to him, but those were all things she'd once had.

She had lost all those, hadn't she?

She got up slowly, resolutely and put them away in the drawer of his room.

And not seeing the memories made it easier for them to ebb out of her being slowly. Painfully, slowly, but one at a time was a start. Because not remembering was less painful than remembering. So it was easier to let the months pass until she knew one day, that he had been away a year and a few months for now. But the pain didn't come anymore.

Truth be told, it came sometimes when she watched Vino try to impress Rainie, or when she watched the people around her go home to their families and not an empty house. But the pain didn't come so often, and not as much as before.

Cagalli wasn't as glad as she thought she would have been, but it was something she held onto although it wasn't as warm as hope that could be kept alive in a beating heart, not was it as warm as a fulfilled desire's triumph.

In PLANT, Leon was playing with a haro and childishly scolding it for being noisy. But his parents were involved in far deeper conversation at the other end of the table, and his mother had a slightly perturbed look on her face the boy identified with the time he had accidentally yanked a corner of the tablecloth and sent a vase crashing earthwards. And so he kept silent, careful not to disturb them. The haro was beginning to beep a sonata, and Leon focused his attention on it.

"There's been something they're hiding from us," Kira said calmly, his fingers bent beneath his chin, rubbing his eyes wearily with another hand. His eyes were beginning to feel the strain of reading so many documents in an hour, and his heart was chiding him for not taking a break.

Near the hallway, Lacus was writing a confirmation to her assistant, and she put her pen down for a minute as the oven made an impatient sound. He looked up expectantly as she scampered to the other room and came back, bearing a tray of muffins Leon had helped to make.

She looked at him and sighed, but nodded at his comment, pausing as if to think but eventually choosing her reply, and it was softly given. Her hair was tied in a tail and looped to prevent it from becoming a hassle and her cheeks were rosy with the heat of the kitchen and her figure was unreasonably beautiful in an apron and a simple dress.

He studied her, studied the being the men in PLANT, not just those in the high circles of society, had wanted as a trophy wife, proof of their status in the gentry. But she was too pure and too unadulterated for being manipulated as such, and somehow, he could only see a woman he loved, remembered her in a soft white and pink dress, her milky shoulders somewhat bare but shawled by her long hair as she comforted him at his weakest as he lay in bandages.

"If I'm not wrong," She hesitated, "Since the time they met here a year ago, they haven't seen each other. Cagalli told you they were in contact, did she not? And Athrun, he's impenetratable, I cannot tell what he is thinking. It is none of our business, and yet, I know something is not quite- correct."

He nodded slightly, and was distracted by his son tottering over and asking him to unlock the haro he had accidentally frozen. Kira absent-mindedly did this and it sprang into action, causing Leon to chase excitedly after it.

"The lunch they had here the other time," He said carefully, "I think they argued before that, they were slightly uncomfortable with each other. I cannot place my finger on it though, I couldn't then and I cannot now."

She looked upset but shook her thoughts away and smiled lightly, getting up. It was the end of the discussion, provided that there had been one in the first place. The rule was fairly simple, it being unspoken as well. If they didn't know exactly what was happening, they would make no assumptions that they knew how to go about resolving an issue outside their own marriage.

"Leon wants to visit Yzak," Lacus said as an afterthought, her voice floated from the kitchen as the tap paused and the sounds of plates being put away were heard, "And that leaves our Saturday free."

"Really?" He said teasingly, and Lacus, misinterpretating his meaning, giggled because she could scarcely help it and then called as if to admonish her husband. "Yzak isn't that bad, he's very soft-hearted actually."

It was his turn to laugh. "No," Kira said with some mischief as she reappeared at the table, "I meant the bit about our Saturday free."

He considered bringing her over to him so he could steal a kiss, she might have given it willingly but he preferred a stolen one. And then the phone rang and she moved hastily to get it and he sighed to himself. A minute later, however, he saw that she had turned away from the wall where she had been facing to receive the phone call, and her already fair face was going chalk-white.

"In general," Cagalli was saying, five hours ago and into a phone, imagining what the Latin American Prime Minister's face looked like there and then, "ORB has pledged to give help to the economy if, and only if, the terms were fulfilled. But until the forests are safe for our people to work in, I cannot condone mere accidents as you say, when such carelessness towards lives have been accepted in the deep forests."

"I agree," the man was saying calmly, but she sensed he was boiling underneath, she was glad she had been neutral in her tone even upon receiving the news that a few men had been killed because the trees hadn't been secured properly while on their jobs, "I will do my best to see that the proper measures will be carried out and implemented."

"You do that then," Cagalli said authoritatively, "And I will allow the ORB companies to do business in your forests. Until then, this is at the status quo."

She put down the phone gently and sighed at the ceiling.

"He was an arse if there ever was one," Kisaka said unapologetically, standing at the side and observing her.

"Yeah?" She echoed flippantly, "I think I've seen bigger idiots."

They half-grinned and half-grimaced at each other.

"Speaking of which," Cagalli said genially, reaching for some papers, "I need to speak to Renault, he arranged a meeting to discuss his new strategies for our population, didn't he? He kept going on and on about negative externalities, which I understand perfectly, I wish he'd credit me with comprehension at very least. But I'm sad to conclude that Tobias doesn't realise he's encouraging those very negative effects he's been blasting about."

"Yes," Kisaka said after a pause. He looked at her carefully, there was a manic energy in her eyes and her hands as she worked, a sort of sickening need to slave and a particular point of obsession in her role.

But he understood that, she was certainly Uzumi Nara Atha's daughter. She had been like this for a long time, he understood, and he was as proud of her as her father would have been, but all the same, he wished she would regain the carefree spirit she once had. Instead, a firmness had taken over her entire ways and she was no longer resolute as much as unshakeable in fulfilling her task. There was a difference, and he knew this for sure.

"Athrun should be coming back in a few months," Kisaka mused, helping her keep some things in order as he bustled around, remarkably agile for his size, "The ZAFT project has gone well, and I heard from Rainie that their troops have been entirely retrained and re-educated in the war history. He's just been credited, another medal to his cupboard of metal pieces then, I think it was another Nebula or something higher than that. In fact, because of the speech he made a month ago, there'll probably be no more Dullindal textbooks then, just pure common sense with what actually happened and the absolute truth."

"Good for all of them," Cagalli said easily, although her eyes were dulled gold.

"Better for you," Kisaka echoed, not noticing a difference, "I know you missed him."

"I did," She repeated calmly, although hit was on the verge of sounding wooden. But she was far past all of this. When she had left PLANT, she had left him standing there, the wind bellowing, his midnight hair shading over his eyes so she couldn't see his expression and was not to know that they had been filled and his vision blurred. Her country was her life now, no more of him to hold her and to kiss her or show in his quiet ways, that he would have given up anything for her if only she had asked.

"I need some fresh air," She announced, and stood up hurriedly, ignoring Kisaka's calls that it would rain soon.

Outside, the skies were a sinister bluish-grey, the kind of colour that could be either miserable or somber, depending how one's mood was. Hers was the latter. The wind wasn't strong; it was almost dying, but she suspected that it would pick itself up sooner or later. But for now, she would sit at a bench under a tree until it truly rained, and she would run back for shelter.

This place was vacated. Very rarely did anyone come to this park, not when it was so near the governmental office and there was a generally enigmatic and somehow official air around it. Cagalli blamed it on the memorial to Uzumi Nara Atha, the slab of beautiful white marble speckled with black grains and glossed to reflect the world around it. Somehow, nobody really came here but her, although she had seen some young students on a History school trip here once, and she had hidden behind some trees until they had gone off for lunch. Having her photograph taken hadn't been high on her list of priorities.

But Cagalli knew this place well, her lunch breaks were often here, just her, some newspapers and her lunch and the occasional bird songs above her.

She sat achingly slowly on the stone bench, her face devoid of any emotion. She was far past caring about how she felt, because she was too proud to do anything that deviated from her words, no matter how rash they had been at that point in time.

But it wasn't illegal to think of how it might have been if she had spoken up or allowed herself to be less stubborn, less strong, less independent and less unforgiving. What if she had given in to the urge to kiss him? What if she had given up her pride and exchanged it for his being with her instead? What if she had asked for him to never leave her, never mind the sure flames on her face and her shaking voice? What if-

She laughed dryly, a slight wheezing sound, but her entire chest ached with a pain that wasn't natural. Someone had once told her that hindsight was twenty-twenty, but regret was forever. How apt.

It was becoming slightly stuffy, as it usually would before a storm. Therefore, she abandoned her plum jacket at the side and sat, allowing the wind to caress her neck and the hollow beneath it that led deep down to her abdomen once she had unbuttoned enough of her white blouse.

Her hair was rather long by this time, well beyond her shoulders instead of its former length where it had teased it rather than swept past the shoulder, and since she wasn't used to tying her hair, given its previous length, she had left on lying luxuriously around her shoulders, trailing its golden paths down, trying, with their amber-tipped tendrils, to touch her chest. Rainie had been surprised, told her that she looked like the sort of princess with golden locks and flowy dresses and the singsong voice the knight would be allured by, but this could have been no further from the truth. It was true that her hair was long now, but she was stubborn in her fidelity to her uniform, her code of honour to ORB, and her voice was mellow rather than melodious.

Uzumi Nara Atha's memorial was a glint in the distance. She squinted for it under the greying skies and asked quietly, "Are you proud of me yet?"

Nobody answered, but she had expected that mostly.

"Mind if I join you?"

She swore badly in her shock, and startled, she jumped to her feet and came face to face with a pair of ruby eyes.

And for a moment when sanity was on a hiatus, she saw a Venetian court noble standing before her. Before she knew whether she was hallucinating or even conscious of her being, she had taken her jacket away for him to sit down, saying softly to calm herself down, "I didn't expect to see you here, Shinn."

"I chanced by," He explained, comfortably slouched against the stone surface like her, but his eyes keen and somehow sharp. She thought about how bestial they looked at times, when he was full of rage and hatred, or how unsure they had looked at times, like a dog that was beaten into submission and forced into a cage and fed only the sounds of the world that went on around it.

But he was a handsome young man, no longer as rash or reckless as the youth she had seen, and his once pale complexion had taken on a slightly peachy tone as if he had been sunburnt a little. Perhaps he had been, ORB's climate would have certainly facilitated that. And he had grown taller in the final stage of the spurt youths went though, he was now clearly taller than her, although she wouldn't have liked to admit it. His arms were sinewy, proof of his maturation, and she was forcibly reminded of Kira, the same raw strength and somehow gentleness that were combined simultaneously. His shirt was stretched a little over his chest, and she wondered if he had changed any more than this.

But Shinn, to her, she didn't know what he was, or of he had truly forgiven those who had hurt him or himself for hurting them back. And she was twenty-four, going to be twenty-five, she'd been blind once, she'd carried a child and lost it and learnt to stand up from it and yet, she thought bitterly, she was still a bit afraid of this person who had torn every ideal of hers down once.

It must have shown in the slight tenseness. He was looking critically at her and she shrank a little, afraid of the gaze his ruby eyes imprinted on her, and she somehow needed to cross her arms defensively over herself, as if protecting herself from him and the watchful eyes that had directed themselves there. The few seconds of silence that followed were disastrous.

"This place is usually empty," Cagalli said weakly, "So I have lunch here sometimes when I need a change of surrounding. I don't suppose you're here on ZAFT's order?"

"No," he laughed, it sounded like a bark, "I resigned just a week ago. I'm enjoying some freedom for a while, and then I think I'll further my studies in engineering or teach."

Her eyes were wide amber, "Teach?"

"Physical fitness," He answered blithely, looking at her so intently that she felt a bit disconcerted by the drops of ink saturated in the two spots of blood in the middle of a flawless white sheet of snow that were his eyes.

"Oh," She replied rather dumbly, "I didn't think you'd like teaching little children. Of course though, you'd be good at it, and I don't suppose anyone would be more qualified than you seeing that you were an officer, and I've never been to school in the truest sense of the word, discounting the two years I sneaked off to join those of my age, and I wouldn't know anyhow, the best way a student would like to be taught and-."

"Miss Cagalli," he interrupted finally, and she jerked in a mandatory fashion, "I came here hoping to catch a glimpse of my old home. Would you grant me the opportunity to apologise?"

"Apologise?" She said in terror.

His eyes were upon hers, and she suddenly knew the sorrow in them, she was watching her father become a distant figure again, the flames erupting and absorbing all and her screams that did little to help them both.

And then before she could speak, she had somehow closed the distance between them and was hugging him in a distressingly child-like manner, but she couldn't care less, and he was whispering that he hadn't meant to hurt her when he had been sixteen. He returned her embrace when she clung on, like to a little brother that she was clearly very fond of, but when a hand slid beneath the curtain of hair to touch her neck, she jerked away even when she assured herself that it had been harmless.

She had thought of Athrun for a split second.

He didn't notice anything either, he was completely innocent. She tried to tell herself so. But she didn't dare to look at the strange, glowing blood drops in his face, for some innate fear that could jot be justified by anything but instinct. Her chest rose and fell too strongly for her to ignore her thumping heart. She knew he was watching, and she folded her arms across her defensively. The smile in his eyes was kind, slightly curious and puzzled at how nervous she was, but she found herself becoming tenser.

"If you want a recommendation here, I'll give you one," She said finally, glancing at him, "I suppose a primary school's students are too immature for your liking?"

"It matters very little," Shinn replied, smiling politely, "I'd be thrilled to work in ORB."

"Good then," she said hastily, looking around, the sky were clearly grey now, and she experienced a little drip of water that slid down her arm, enough to know that it was starting, just only, to drizzle, "I'll arrange this and I'll get back to you so that-,"

"Miss Cagalli," He interrupted again, and there was a slightly innocent key in his voice that she found herself being frightened of, like it was there only to placate her and to calm her to him, "Will Athrun be coming back soon?"

"Just Cagalli will do," she instructed vaguely, running a careless hand through her mane, trying not to notice his eyes following her because the slight disconcertment rose in her, "And yes, I think so."

His eyebrows shot up and she kicked herself for the uncertain words. But she knew better than to rephrase those, it would have been even worse a mistake than the previous one. And a smile was stretching itself shyly from each end of his face, and he said softly, "That's good to hear."

"Why, in particular?"

"Nothing, really."

The rain without warning, wept from the skies. And Cagalli cursed in dismay, but Shinn merely laughed. Then she shivered, feeling cold now, and realized that a few of the buttons were undone and quickly redid them, not feeling self-conscious but quite perturbed at her lack of focus for the day. He was staring into the distance, like he had gotten lost in a forest of thought but his eyes cleared and he soon got up, offering his hand, and she took it quite willingly.

"Run?" She questioned lightly.

He nodded, smiling, and she lifted her jacket above both their heads and they darted forward, laughing and splashing threw some puddles that they could not avoid, until they were safe under the shelter of the pathway leading up to the Parliament House, and she tilted her head slightly, asking, "Want to come?"

He shook his head, "No, I have some unfinished business, I'll wait for the rain to stop a bit, and then I'll be on my way. We'll meet up again, don't worry. But for now, it's goodbye."

His words were somehow disconcerting, but she smiled and reached up, brushing some wet strands from his eyes, making his eyes widen and causing him to look like a young boy for a minute.

"I'll be on my way then," she muttered, she was a bit uncomfortable for some reason she could not detect very well. He cocked his head at her like a slightly baffled puppy but extended his hand for her to shake.

He wasn't a young boy but he wasn't quite a man either, she reassured nobody in particular. But when she took his hand, he withdrew it but effectively grasped her in a crushing hug, and she responded after a few seconds of startled silence, and reluctantly, she broke the hug, feeling as if she would never see a brother again. And she knew that that few moments of raw silence had forced them both into epiphany, that she would always understand him and he would for her as well, and a numbness in her melted away until she found herself staring straight at him.

And then it clicked. He reminded her of Kira in that strange, maddening way of his, so grown-up but so naive about the world in his own ways, just that Kira had an uncanny knack for being indecisive and Shinn was rash instead. On impulse, Cagalli let go and stared up at his face, wondering why he had shot up so suddenly like a runner-bean, and then she asked lightly, "Are you going?"

He grinned and touched her cheek lightly with his lips, surprising her and therefore rendering her speechless, but then he turned to leave, and he was blushing and she was laughing at his clumsiness when he stuttered and asked if she would meet him again. She had agreed, teasingly, he was such a strange boy. In her heart, she was afraid he would suddenly turn around and hate her, hurl words at her like slaps and yank at her soul with his blood-coloured eyes and bared white teeth that snarled and spat. Her father had somehow killed his family. And there was nobody left but her to repay for this.

Her cell rang, and she fumbled around for it, both of them mere steps away from her work room. She could see Rainie in the distance, waving from afar, her long, brown hair swinging, rooted to a frame as a luxurious curtain would have been. She ignored her however; the questions in her heart, and flipped it open, wondering why Lacus was calling her like this. And she said inquiringly into the mouthpiece, her voice filled with as many questions as Shinn's eyes as she turned away from him, facing the rain they were both sheltered from, "What is it, Lacus?"

And the voice on the other end was frantic and when Cagalli could speak again, her voice was filled with rough urgency. "I'll be right there."

The waterfall erupted in her ears and she clenched her fists unconsciously, willing herself to not say anything yet, not at least until she could articulate what she would do now. In all matters of truth, she did not know what she would have done then.

But soon enough, even though her eyes had seemed to be shut for eternity, she shut the phone, turned around to face a bewildered Shinn, her frame visibly trembling but her face filled with fierce determination.

Would he understand?

Her voice betrayed the fears in her body in an instant, and she watched Shinn's eyes widen and his lips grow taut in a line, and knew instantly, that he understood her perfectly.

"I'm going to PLANT to see Malchio."


	30. Chapter 30

I own nothing of GS/GSD.

I've finished writing the whole of Truth be Told, and up to this point, I want to thank all the reviewers for supporting this as well as you all have. The ending will come soon, minor adjustments could be made here and there, but essentially, it's all done and like I say, in the Document Manager as I have always liked to do, finish five chapters ahead, wait for the no. of reviews for the current chapter to hit my target, then release the next one. Thanks to all. R&R please, it determines the speed the next chapter comes out with, and I'm eager to see how you all receive the final chapters.

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Chapter 30

She was writing feverishly and knew Rainie had tears in her eyes, as if to make up for the lack of those in her own eyes. And Kisaka was muttering something under his breath and shaking his head, almost like he wanted to say something but didn't quite dare to.

Her fingers gripped the pen so hard that she scarcely noticed they were shaking, but the slight pain of the white knuckles was felt slightly. She was in an examination hall again with the other students of her age, spewing whatever she could onto paper in a mimicry of a memory dump, where after the examination's last bell had rung, she would be free from everything she had left on the paper with her ink.

Except now, she was strangely aware that her fingers were stained with ink and that the face moving through her mind was smiling wistfully even as the wind blew and the children around them laughed and pointed to the birds they could all see in the sky, save for him. But he saw them with his ears anyway.

Anger filled her body and her shoulders were tense. And she ceased her frantic writing and looked up at her two attendants, her eyes not seeing. "I'm fine, so just go."

"You clearly aren't!" Rainie cried indignantly like a puppy that had been denied its toy and then ignored for a whole day, "And Malchio wouldn't blame you!"

"Enough!"

Her voice was a slap. And then her gaze faltered and she visibly shook. "I'm sorry. Just go."

Rainie burst into tears and fled, slamming the door behind her. And Cagalli had forgotten how anxious her bodyguard had been for her, and regret stained her face but she turned to Kisaka and asked coldly, "Do you have anything to say?"

The giant-like person glowered at her, somehow a contradictory figure, a sort of guerilla chief in stiff, freshly-pressed uniform. She did not falter this time, however, and looked into the recesses of his dark eyes, suddenly seeing the weariness there and the lines his face had accumulated over the years. At the present, they were hardened with a tenseness she had inflicted on him.

"Before I leave you to cool down," He said evenly, although she sensed a boiling rage in him not unlike hers, the one that was suppressed deep under in her effort to refrain from losing control, "Truth I think Malchio knew it was coming."

"No!"

"I know him better than you think I do," Kisaka said thinly, "And he knew he would face his death soon. He revealed that to me years ago. And before I leave you here, I advise you to prepare yourself. If not for your sake, then Athrun's."

Her head snapped up and her eyes met his in petrified understanding. "He sent a message. He wants to see you."

She sat, staring into the wall that faced her, frozen. And the previous hour flooded through the veneer she was so desperate to keep uncracked and intact.

The call had come urgent. Lacus's voice had been unsteady, madly distorted by fear. She could imagine now, her friend's eyes tightly shut, as if a thunderbolt would sound at anytime. "Caridad called to tell us that Malchio's weakening. The doctors are with him, but they think he's not going to make it until tonight."

Shinn had understood as well. And she had left him there, his face whiter than before and a compound match of agony and frustration at his disability to do anything else while Cagalli called for a car, forgetting everything in that instant as the chauffeur sped to the shuttle grounds.

And they were little need for negotiations, she told them tersely, "I'm in a hurry."

Hope set her heart ticking like a steady clock but, and beads of perspiration rolled down her forehead and wet her neck slightly, dampening it the way the lands were fed droplets before the thunderstorm.

But at the next instant, she knew she had lost, never mind the fact that her belt was strapping her tightly, prisoner-like, to her resting position, and that her fists were clasped in prayer and that the captain was about to take off. The call came from Kira this time. And she nodded with noncommittal sounds, because she knew her voice would be broken and strange if she were to speak or respond to the fact that Malchio was a dead man.

She got off and left, Kisaka, thankfully, was superb in his handling of the staff and bringing her back to the office. She had told him, no, insisted that she was fine and had resumed her work. Her shirt was uncovered by the absence of her jacket, and vaguely, she recalled that Shinn was holding it the last time she had seen it. He had been nowhere in sight when she had returned, and for that, Cagalli was glad.

And now, Athrun was coming.

She recalled the brief words Kira had granted her.

"He passed away a minute ago, but he's now in peace, the world can't hurt him anymore. And there's no point in you rushing here, you need to hold your ground there. Lacus and I will take care of the rest; the children are fine with my mother."

The rest of the hour was spent with her pen dangling in her fingers as she held her silence and thought of Malchio, her friend. His eyes would be closed, but then, she thought sadly, they always were, weren't they? And his lips would hold a mysterious, knowing smile, and his hands folded neatly upon his chest. Lacus would see to it that he had flowers with him, he had told them once while the children were in the garden, that they made up for his blindness with their patient softness and their scents.

The minutes ticked by, but she scarcely noticed until a panic seized her, a panic so profound that Cagalli found that her feet were no longer rooted to the carpet shaded by her desk, but moving, sprinting out of the door, scarcely caring that she was not well-equipped for the storm outside in the monsoon season.

And Cagalli did not take an umbrella with her, nor did she have a jacket to place over her head as she stumbled out, unnoticed by the secretary who was busy with someone else, into the park she had been in. She had been late, hadn't she?

The world was comprised of two essential colours in thousands of shades- grey and blue. The streets were merle, the sky was coal, the clouds jet foam, and the world in front of her scattered in white lines that were the tears the sky shed for Malchio. She cried a bit as she sat on the bench, but then she realized that an umbrella was held over her head, the one thing in the world that wasn't blue or grey, but maroon.

"I thought I'd find you here." Shinn said solemnly.

She was irritated at his presence and looked away, not caring how badly soaked her clothes were and how they clung to her body, or how the water droplets in her wet hair mimicked those hanging off her eyelashes, those that framed very slightly red rims, for she had stopped crying a while ago.

"I couldn't get there in time," She admitted to herself, rather than him, and bit her lip grudgingly as he patiently stood there, holding the umbrella over both their heads, providing her temporary shelter. Her hands were tight with frustration and her eyes troubled.

"He doesn't blame you," Shinn said with commendable ease, "I know I wouldn't."

A long lapse of silence passed, and she shut her eyes, feeling very tired, and that she had fulfilled whatever duty she had to her friend. The shelter above her was now very comforting, and the person holding it even more so. So Cagalli looked up and smiled wanly to convey her thoughts, and he grinned back and offered a hand to her.

"We'll go back to the office," He promised, "And get you dried so you won't fall ill. Kisaka will be waiting for you, he told me you might be here, and that confirmed my suspicions. I was waiting for you to return, but I think I must have missed you when you did, and I've been waiting ever since. Come with me."

She stared at the white in the colours around them, and reached out to let her own white hand be held in it and led back, to console her and dispel her self-doubt and guilt in not being able to do anything for someone who she had somehow taken for granted, and his eyes were very soft and gentle.

But Athrun's voice struck through the harsh pitter-pat of the rain on the stone pavement and the bench she sat on, and startled, they both turned around to face him. He stood a meter or so away from them, his umbrella held tightly above his head and his eyes empty, a hollow expression. And that was when she knew he was as broken as she was inside, she had promised herself that she would forget everything about him, but that numbness, she knew, she would always know, was the mirror of his pain.

He looked hard at them and repeated himself, clearly enough for Shinn to lower his hand and Cagalli to bring herself out of the daze.

"I don't want you to go with him."

She saw, through the dreary world of flat colours, Shinn's face turn startled, and then unsure. And his face grew paler than before, like paper that was bleached for the second time. It did not register to her, however, nothing did except the quiet hollowness in Athrun's voice.

And to her astonishment, and possible all of theirs, her voice sounded out, soft but somehow resolute in the pouring of the indomitable rain.

"I won't."

He strode forward then, so fast that she couldn't take note of his expression, although it was most probably the same one as before, for he had always been inscrutable at times like these. And she looked apologetically at Shinn, but he smiled awkwardly and shrugged, and she had little time to think of what all this meant, for the shelter was a different one, she was under the dark blue of his shelter now, a hand was clasped around hers and she was being led away, but directly next to Athrun.

She was only half-aware then, that she was staining the seats a darker color than it already was with the rainwater collected by her clothes and her cold but damp skin, and that Athrun's face was the screen for the shadows of the passing streets and overhead skies and trees or lamps, the shadows cast enigmatically and very blurred at the edges. She was aware then, that he was leading her again, up the steps of the house, and that he was clearing the locks she had never changed, had never thought of changing, to the place they had both once lived in.

By no means was Cagalli lost in her own thoughts. It was the more maddening case of her sudden muteness in his presence, and the fact that she had lost whatever ounce of decisiveness she had previously displayed in the park. But she was fully conscious that he had gently pressed her down on a chair forcing her to sit, and had occupied the one directly across it, in a mocking statement of the way she had told him of her decision to move away from him. He did not see this, however, he was far too lost in her besotting fragility to think of the way she had hurt him.

And finally, he spoke. "Malchio's passed away, you know that."

"I know," She said bravely, "And I couldn't be there to say goodbye, could I?"

"No," He agreed, far gentler than she thought he was capable of doing at the point in time, "And yet, he did tell me to convey his farewell to you. He was a friend of ours, wasn't he? He wouldn't begrudge you something like that."

His eyes were a dark, solemn jade. "Are you unwell?"

"No," She assured him, not quite sure if this was a dream or not anymore, she was with Athrun in her own house, a house which bore no more trace of this man, and a direct representation of her. And yet he sat in front of her, eyes tracing her movements and her face, eyes filled with concern, asking her if she was unwell.

"I have something to tell you, on Malchio's behalf," Athrun said eventually, "But I want you to have a hot bath first and change into something before you fall ill. Foolhardy is very like you."

His smile was wry, and she found her lips curving up to respond to his gesture.

"Will you wait?"

"Yes," He said simply. His eyes however, conveyed his meaning. He would wait for as long as she wanted.

And she felt a chill run through her body and was suddenly embarrassed to see that her white shirt was nearly translucent in its soaked state, and that he was tactfully keeping his eyes on her face and only her face. Or at times, when she shifted unconsciously, his eyes had become fascinated with the wall behind her.

Thankful, she stood up awkwardly and stumbled off, her shoes somehow uneven, and she ended up taking them off before she even embarked on the voyage up the stairs to her bedroom.

The bath was wonderfully warm, it did lift her spirits considerably, and her hair was damp and curling in the warmth of her body and the steam she had just left, for Cagalli was careful to be brisk.

She changed, quite hastily, into a no-frills slip, in no mind to consider what to wear when she was so eager to hear Malchio's last words, meant only for her. And the soft lilac cotton pressed amorously against her, her arms mostly covered but her hands soft and bare like spider lilies on the dark red wood of the dining table.

He had somehow prepared a steaming pot of tea and automatically served a cup to her. She thanked him quietly and he nodded, now aware that this was the most natural thing in the world even in the most complicated of situations. Her eyes moved slowly towards him, venturing, venturing, and just daring bit by bit, to inch forward, until her eyes had travlled from the hand resting on the table to his face. His eyes were waiting to meet hers, and she dropped her eyes immediately, embarrassed.

"Malchio wanted to tell you not to claim fault for not being at his deathbed," Athrun said wanly, "And to think, he knew you so well."

She coloured badly, her head hung slightly and a lock of her hair fell over her shoulder secretively, straining for the curvatures of her torso. "I was miserable."

"As I was," He said emotionlessly, toying with the teacup's handle, "But I comfort myself with the knowledge that Malchio lived a long and fruitful life, and that is worth remembering."

A bitter look crossed her face. "Long and fruitful life? He was fifty-two this year!"

"Long and fruitful," Athrun interjected, "For his circumstances. He was blind for nearly half his life, and the other half shouldn't; have been there."

She tensed. "What do you mean?"

"A distance-bomb," Athrun said evenly, watching the horror grow in her face as she relived the trauma she had gone through as well, "Only that while you were nearer to the centre of origin and your lack of sight therefore temporary, he had been standing at the targeted distance by pure accident. His blindness was surely permanent, whether or not he had tried to reverse this with operations, and his cells were never the same after the direct effect of the radioactive particles."

A stunned silence greeted him.

His laugh was wry. "You don't believe me?"

She stammered then. "No, I do. But it's difficult to- to believe."

It wasn't that, even. Athrun had been nearer to the desired impact of the bomb the other time, hadn't he? And she had been temporarily blinded, he had been further away from her, and fear beat like a maddened drum in her, a cancerous pulse.

"Why should it be?" He said critically, gazing ahead at her, "There were plenty of those in the war. They've been fighting for a long time, haven't they?"

Her tongue jammed, immobile. Eventually, however, it managed to regain her speech.

"Radiation poisoning?"

"Of course." He replied. "And he was fortunate, blessed enough, to live for as long as he did. But Malchio knew that this day would come, he told me once, that I was far less the fool to live as Athrun Zala rather than as Patrick Zala's son. He knew, all this time, that his years were being marked down."

"But he didn't show any signs of weakening!" She cried in protest, filled with doubt and denial. He shook his head slowly.

"You're naïve," Athrun replied decidedly. His eyes were slightly scornful.

Her eyes flashed in anger, but then she suddenly realized with a terrible awakening of consciousness in her, that his eyes were very dark and his gaze intense and silent. Was he referring to her inability to see through Malchio's strength and clever ploy to hide the terrible truth from her and the rest, or was it something more than this at present?

She quickly lowered her gaze, afraid to meet his, afraid to ask if he had weakened since being on that doomed beack with her on that wretched night when the explosion had been the last thing she heard before she had blacked out.

"In any case," he told her, his voice deep and slightly rough, husky even, "Why were you with Shinn?"

She remembered the umbrella and the way Athrun had stood from afar, watching without them knowing, under the rain, watching quietly. Just watching. How much had he seen?

'But I haven't done anything,' She reminded herself defensively, and then she wondered why she was even afraid to meet the fathomless emerald eyes that were mostly darkened moss-velvet now.

"It's not your business," Cagalli replied in a low voice.

"Try me." His voice was thin and cut, word by word.

She glowered at him. "He just came with an umbrella, I don't know anything else!"

Her rashness had betrayed her, not for the first time. She hadn't wanted to say anything, but she had let everything out with a simple prod from him and the firm ice in his voice. Angry, she blushed to her neck and put a hand at the base of her throat unconsciously. His eyes traveled there.

"I see."

His lips were set thinly and there was a slight crease between his brow, but he thankfully said no more. She buried her hands in her lap, suddenly filled with the energy that astonished her in an instant.

She got up and took a few tentative steps away from the chair. "There are a few of your belongings left. You can stay here tonight if it's more appropriate than going back to PLANT immediately. I'll draw the bath if you like."

"Please, and thank you." His voice was even again.

That night, she huddled under the covers, listening to the sound of her slightly wheezy breathing. She had taken two pills to prevent her slight cold from worsening under his watchful eye. He hadn't said anything, just watched her down them, one by one. She scarcely noticed the words in fine print, those on the case, noting the side-effects of drowsiness, she was so lost in thought that nothing mattered very much.

But she couldn't sleep, somehow, no matter how much, her body was crying out for her to obey its pleas. Her mind was too active. And frustration grappled at her, and the thin shirt she wore was slightly wet with perspiration. Cagalli, for a long hour, thought she was languishing, and she craved sleep, but was simultaneously afraid to cross the border in the darkness she was shrouded in. Because his eyes haunted her, and her body craved something more than sleep, and the dreams would punish her for whatever she had restrained from once she closed her eyes fully.

Twice, she dozed off, awoke a few minutes later, irritable and miserable. And finally, she couldn't wake herself anymore and drifted off to unconsciousness.

When he came in, the door creaked slightly, the way it always had since she had moved here. And his feet gave nothing of his presence away, but she awoke only partially as his arms ravenously encircled her and a hand stroked her lips secretively, encouraging her to part them for him to taste her and capture her lips. Her eyes were less than half-open ,and both the effect of the drug and the desperate sleep clawed at her, so she remained mostly motionless and half upright in the way he had arranged her to be, and she was only slightly aware of his masculine scent accompanying his touch. His fingers crept to the same hollow at her neck she had self-consciously touched as she had blushed before, and she twitched slightly, quivering in a sort of delirious fervor as his mouth traced the pathway of a bead of water that ran down her neck and further south. Slowly, languorously. She murmured unintelligibly as he nuzzled her and her head fell limply back, her silent cries threatening to become real.

He stopped suddenly, and she was being lowered down, onto the pillow. Wracked with disappointment, she cried, "Don't go!"

And her eyes fluttered open, suddenly adjusted to the darkness she was still bathed in, but only silence and an obviously shut door met her. She raised a trembling, terse hand to her forehead and cursed.

For the rest of the night, she kept herself awake, afraid that her dreams would haunt her, afraid that he would come and make everything an uncontrollable reality.


	31. Chapter 31

Disclaimer: I own nothing of GS/GSD. R&R please.

* * *

Chapter 31

"Good morning."

She returned his greeting with a fearful suspicion, like a snake coiling, inside her heart. His face registered nothing, devoid of emotion, no particular nuance of feeling there, but Cagalli did not trust him. He knew how to act, he knew how to use the mask she could somehow never sustain, and that made Athrun Zala more dangerous than anyone else.

"L-last night, did you-,"

She trailed off uncomfortably, immensely ill at ease, unable to continue on. He lifted an eyebrow, inquiring with his eyes, and she demurred, recklessly brushing her incomplete question with a clumsy hand and a deep colour on her cheeks.

Adjusting her chair as she sat down made her feel even more uncomfortable in his presence at the table, and she was glad she had taken a shower and therefore remove all traces of her perspiration during the previous night. Her eyes glazed over like clear gems, somehow so clear that they became empty as she pondered whether she had been either delirious or-

"What are you staring at?" Athrun asked politely, with a tinge of ice in his tone. She shook herself awake and muttered a non-committal reply, and he accepted this quietly as he drank his tea, surveying her over the rim of the porcelain.

Good morning. What audacity he had.

But then, Cagalli thought confusedly, he hadn't actually offended her or anything, not anything she could prove anyway, not when she was so volatile in this state, near to him after so long of abstaining from his touch and allowing herself to look fully and completely into his eyes.

He seemed to be understanding a little or all of her thoughts and his lips quirked sardonically. She coloured rapidly and said sharply, "What are you staring at?"

"Nothing," He drawled, "You've given me nothing to stare at, in any case."

This was true. She had selected the most conservative outfit she had ownership of for this morning, the one that she saved for important conferences with the elderly leaders of EA Europe, never mind that they weren't quite of the conservative sort in their private lives. She shuddered, recalling a tabloid she had happened to pick up that splashed one of them having multiple affairs with men less than half her age, some of them younger than Rainie even.

Athrun looked at her, not saying anything, just waiting for his provocation to fill the recesses of her mind in this morning's state and to make her cheeks stained like a rose. She had chosen a soft cashmere shirt and skirt that locked her entire torso to the tip of her throat, but somehow emphasized her curves and the way she strained again the fabric when she moved. She was always so naive towards men and their thoughts. He looked away, not caring to comment until she did.

But she never got past the stage of blushing and looking slightly offended, she only shrugged a bit self-consciously and picked up a newspaper, flipping through it in a very careless sort of manner that was a direct travesty compared to the way Athrun had moved its pages so precisely and nimbly.

"Will the car come?" He asked glibly, realising that she wasn't actually reading.

"Yes, oh, I think, no," She said wildly, afraid of being addressed directly by him.

It was a queer thing, to be with a man like him, a drug she had gotten herself clean off only to have his presence seeping into this house again, detect his slightly critical eyes soften each time he gazed at her retreating back, see his coat hanging with an inanimate ease at the side, all of that. And to be addicted again to the same drug, that was irony, pure irony after all that she had sworn off to be rid of him.

His eyebrows shot up. "Yes?"

"No," Cagalli said fiercely, angry at herself, "Kisaka's banned me from the office for a week, he says I need to rest."

"He's absolutely correct," Athrun said simply, "I'm not going back to work for a while, I might as well spend all the days I've saved up. And I'm tired of teaching the theory of piloting for three days in a week for the majority of my work days and fulfilling the Andes of paperwork that are the other days."

The words rang ominous in more ways than one. First, Athrun Zala was a bit of a contradiction. He loved piloting, he was superb at it, and yet he didn't like to kill with it as his tool when it was made precisely for that. And she suspected now, that he wanted to try going on a hunt for enemies like the way he had done in the wars to bring a bit of thrill back into his life. His eyes had that strange glint in them that she had once associated with his transfiguration of a man into a machine while in the mobile weapon.

Second, if she was off work, and he claimed he would be as well and already in the Atha Mansion, sipping his tea less than a meter away from her, would that be equivalent to him-

"You're not staying here, are you?" She blurted out, her eyes fearful and wide. Athrun caught sight of this and smiled cruelly.

"No," He said softly, very precariously, "Unless you want me to stay here and keep you comp-,"

Cagalli's eyes flashed and she interrupted with as much dignity she could muster then, "I sure as hell don't!"

"Suit yourself," Athrun said politely, like he had merely offered her a sweet and she had refused him. Damn bastard that he was.

"I will!" She said, suddenly petulant.

He eyed her coolly and got up with a feline grace that reminded her of a large cat. "You're the most stubborn woman I've been associated with in my entire life, you know that?"

And suddenly, without realising it all, without meaning to allow herself to, she was on her feet instantly. "And you're the most idiotic man I've known for all my twenty-four years!"

He had been at the door, and now he paused, standing on one leg and with his coat flung around one side of his back, held with a single finger that displayed a reckless confidence and angry ease, and the other hand already snug in his pocket. "How many men have you known anyway, Cagalli?"

His tone was irreverent, cold, mocking, all of that. She strode over, hurt by him talking of her pride, willing to hurt him, not sure if that would put a salve to the throb in her chest that was a stab of pain, only that she wanted to kill Athrun Zala for ever hurting her by making her love him and have him wound her so many times without him even knowing it.

"I've known more men than you could ever think of!" Her voice was trembling and her hands, tiny but strong, waiting to push him out of the door as he went, a final insult, the only one she could think of then in her state of mind, prepared then, that when he got out of the house, she would as well, get to a place with some peace and silence, calm down, maybe confide in the cold slab of marble that was her father's memorial, maybe-

But he had blocked the doorway with his body and turned around. His face was morphing from one of careless indifference to ice that was fire to touch or even see.

How many men had she known? Barely any other than her family and her friends, she hadn't had a serious relationship before in her life, but then she was so young when she met Athrun Zala, so painfully innocent when they had fallen in love, still so unassuming when she'd become his wife. She knew Andrew, he had been a very good friend in school, until he had tried to convince her to be his girlfriend and Cagalli had convinced him otherwise, she knew Mick, he was very handsome, he had liked cars and she had liked him until she had realised he was already dating her then-best friend and had therefore stuck to liking cars, and of course Yuuna, she knew him, but she didn't want to. She didn't want to be his bride, didn't want to be his trophy wife, didn't want to grow her hair long for him, didn't want to wear a dress because she knew he'd like that, didn't want to be in ORB without her father around while Yuuna was there, didn't want to let herself be hugged by him in front of Athrun, didn't want to let herself be taken away from Athrun while he watched from afar.

Athrun Zala, he was better than all of them put together and worse than all of them because he could make her hate him and love him at the same time.

"Repeat that." He said, thinly veiled jealousy rearing in his eyes.

Defiant, and as madly incensed as Athrun was, but in a quite different sort of way, the more passionate anger obvious than the cold anger he displayed, Cagalli turned away and spat, "You heard me the first time."

"Is that correct?" His voice was soft and punishing, lethal. "Do you really?"

"I don't lie," She lied, willing him to just get out and never come back so she could do what she had promised she'd do for a year and a half. His eyes were narrowing, she could feel them boring holes into her back, she shivered, but had no time to feel her fear entirely, he had tossed his coat to the couch and had seized her wrists, bounding them entirely with his fingers and pressing down on them mercilessly until she cried out and was forced to face him.

"You say you don't lie," He breathed into her face, and petrified, she couldn't blink in their proximity to each other, "You say that don't you? Then tell me, tell me Cagalli," She was struggling in an insane way now, like a hare caught in a unyielding snare, pathetic and weak, "Is Shinn Asuka one of them?"

The incredulity of it all struck at her face with a sound blow that registered with the shock that surfaced. And it was all Athrun needed, although he kept her wrists locked, Cagalli no longer struggling in her astonishment.

"I thought so," Athrun said, thoroughly satisfied with her shock and even more satiated with her trembling lip. "You're a terrible liar, you'd make a terrible politician if you didn't have the people's interests truly at heart."

His words, slightly softer now, did not quite mollify her. She looked like a provoked animal, furious and wounded but wildly beautiful. It was simply not fair, he thought dazedly, simply not fair how she could affect him so badly and expect him to pick the pieces for her.

"Let go, Athrun!"

"That's something I haven't heard in a long time, actually, " He mused, half-lost in his thoughts but his grip none the less as firm as before, "You haven't called me by my name for a very long time."

"None of your business," She snarled, still trying desperately to free herself.

"I'll make it mine then," He whispered, his face even closer to hers, she could feel his body nearly enveloping hers, she could see every single eyelash that framed the green, the way the rims of the pupils were dark with something both of them had repressed for so long, something so potentially destructive, and that would mean-

He bent forward and ravished her lips with his own. For a stunned second, she did not respond, but something jolted like a bolt of electricity that passed from his seeking lips to the ends of her toes, and she parted her lips to protest. He seized the opportunity to deepen his kiss, and she cried out in her pain but the sound failed her. His grip, however, had slackened, and she dashed free of the bounds and wild with despair, broke free entirely and then slapped him hard across the cheek.

Stunned, she captured the offending hand with the other and her eyes were petrified. His eyes coolly traced her and he gingerly touched his cheek.

"You didn't actually mind." His voice was serious but she took this to be a taunt. Incensed, she turned entirely around, keeping her wrists in front of her this time, and not realising that Athrun's face now held a wistful smile. So naive she was, he thought sadly.

"Get out. Don't come back."

The door was quietly shut, he didn't like banging doors and throwing tantrums, he wasn't that sort of person. And sometimes, Cagalli hated him so much more for being in control and being the mover of the chess pieces he was so skillful at playing with, just shuffling them here and there, being polite, being courteous and well-mannered and then winning all the stakes at the last minute without really putting in any obvious effort to. No wonder Yzak Joule hated him so. No wonder he vented his anger on the chairs like that. And Cagalli felt that she really understood Yzak Joule more than she understood herself now.

She heard Athrun get into a car he had taken from the ORB office yesterday evening as he had brought her home in the rain, taken her from the rain and sheltered her from the grays and blues of the world but brought another kind of pain into her being. And she counted to ten, and there was silence from the surroundings.

Only then did she dare turn around. She was still breathing heavily.

When Shinn visited two days later, she was lounging by the fountain side and looking at the tiny fishes that peppered the mossy floors of the huge stone ponds, or more accurately, lakes, with tiny dots of orange that were their bodies.

The guards at the gates of the senate phoned her and informed her that Shinn Asuka, correctly identified and all the security checks they had there. He had tried to look for her, but obviously, Cagalli wasn't present, but agreed to see him when he came to the Atha Mansion. In less than half an hour, he had arrived on a motorbike that sputtered indignantly as he shut it off and moved through the large iron gates that were more than four times his height.

"Hello," Cagalli said pleasantly, smiling at him. He grinned, but it was with a trace of shyness.

"I thought I'd check up to see if you were okay." Shinn offered easily, sitting down where she gestured for him to and watching her watch the fishes dart and play their own games in the clear waters that were tanked by the mossy green stone embankments that went on for stretches. Her fingertips were dipped into the cold water as the sun beamed down and was effectively filtered through by the leaves above their heads and the sturdy sepia branches that extended skyward.

"I am," She replied a bit wistfully, "Although Lacus isn't quite. She knew Malchio for longer than I did, he watched her grow up, I think. But she'll be okay, she's got Kira and Leon with her to take her mind off things, and I've spoken to her, she's a bit dazed, I can tell, but she's going to be fine. I know that at the very least."

He smiled a little. "That's some good news then."

They watched the fishes for a while in slightly less calculated silence, it was a peaceful lull more than anything else.

"Shinn," Cagalli asked inquisitively, wondering if she was pushing too far at once, "Why did you call it off with Lunamaria?"

He stilled, and her breath became shallow, as if her fears had been founded. But Shinn was somehow so calming to her at this time of the day, when all they could hear were the gurgles and laughter of the streams, and she had forgotten herself. However, he smiled soon enough and spoke up.

"Call it off?" He laughed, "You make it sound like a pending divorce! We didn't get married like you and Athrun, in case you've already forgotten that!"

Her face paled a bit but he didn't notice; Shinn was far too busy, lost in the scenery around them and lost in his own thoughts.

And she recovered sufficiently to steady herself and corrected hastily, "You know what I mean."  
"When we started being together," Shinn said, becoming thoughtful now, "I was a bit insane. She wasn't, she was entirely steadfast and very true to both of us, and maybe that was the problem. She was always a friend to me, pushing it beyond when I was myself at that time," His eyes were wry, "Was stupid of both of us, actually."

"But that doesn't warrant anything!" She declared in response, not understanding how simply he could laugh it off.

"No," Shinn said decisively, "But I saw more and more of another person in her than Luna herself, and I think she realised that after a bit. She didn't ask, but she gave her blessing anyway and told me that if I messed up, she'd never rest until she hunted me and killed me and then revived me to murder me again. Lovely girl."

The stunned silence made him chortle. "Yes, feel shell-shocked, whatever you like to call it, but I think Meyrin doesn't know anything."

"She wouldn't obviously," Cagalli cried, "You're a lousy lout, you!"

She could see them, in her mind's eye, Alice dancing with a prince, catching the attention of those around them, Meyrin's cherubic features and doe-like eyes and Shinn's smile as he twirled her and made her laugh even more, but the plea in Shinn's eyes were lost to the creature he was beginning to become besotted with.

How could she have not noticed by then? Both she and Meyrin were oblivious to the same thing, both lost in their own worlds that revolved around Athrun Zala, both too dazed in their dense stupors to wake up from the never-ending dream.

She punched him lightly on the shoulder and he mock-oofed and doubled up in pretense pain but laughed so hard the pain had probably been significant.

"When did you know?"

"I think," Shinn considered briefly, "When I was still with Lunamaria, about a year ago, when Meyrin had agreed to meet Luna for a meal and I was there to pick Luna up. By that time, we were getting bored of each other, not in the bad sense, actually, but the predictability, or so Luna says, was a killjoy. You know her."

This was no doubt the truth. Meeting Lunamaria just once was enough to secure the impression of the spunky, adventurous young woman that Cagalli had seen on the Minerva, although the act of borrowing another soldier's gun to point it at Athrun and her had been quite baffling. Cagalli might have laughed then, had the situation been less sober.

"In any case," Shinn continued softly, "I saw her from quite a distance and I called out to Meyrin because she was heading to the wrong eatery. I chased after her and then she suddenly turned a corner and ended up in the right one and I realised that she isn't quite the child she was."

Cagalli listened and hesitated. Her eyes were wistful, slightly similar to Shinn's except they were thoughtful and more limpid than hers. Love filled his mind, sorrow filled hers.

'Neither are you, Shinn.' She thought morosely.

"Have you had any headway?" She inquired lightly, leaning back slightly and supporting her weight with a knee propped under her uplifted arms.

He grimaced. "She's as clueless as a goose. That's one thing Luna wasn't, actually, if you want to compare them both. People say they're as different as the cliche goes, night and day, all of that, but it isn't true. Meyrin's exceptionally courageous, she's terribly reckless but she isn't obvious about it like Luna, who revels in the shock-factor they others obtain from seeing her do those stunts. And Meyrin's more shy, she doesn't like attention."

"If she's clueless," Cagalli said carelessly, "Then she'll probably think you're the kind who's lost his marbles after a bit."

They looked at each other with sardonic grins and laughed.

"No, seriously though," Shinn said solemnly, "I had an ulterior motive in my coming. I need your help."

She gaped at him and removed her hand so suddenly from the water that the fishes were out of sight in a minute, compared to them being stationary around her hand for quite some time. "You're truly insane!"

"I'm not," he insisted, "I can't approach Luna because I don't think it's right, and Vino's worse than me at this sort of thing, Youlant's too busy now, he being on attachment with the other mechanics."

"Lacus' is probably close to Meyrin than I am," Cagalli grumbled, looking miffed. He took no heed but chuckled, "I don't reckon you are any less, but I'm intimidated by Lacus Clyne."

"No!"

"Yes," He conceded without any shame, "And therefore I beg you to help me."

She looked at him, he was pleading with his eyes and she scowled, pretending and said eventually with the smile that made his heart skip a beat for more than one reason, "Alright. But if Meyrin finds out, we're meat for the dogs, she's fiesty, that one."

He grinned and she returned it, but her heart was sinking. What was she playing at, helping Shinn like this?

She had absolutely no right to decide if she could help others if she couldn't even help herself.

"First though," He said excitedly, "I need you to help me in talking to Bonita. I'll find a way to introduce both of you, she's quite a nice person, but I called her a bitch once and she's never forgiven me, so asking for her help is as good as seducing a dustbin can and bringing it home as a significant other half."

"Bonita?" Cagalli said in surprise, "Oh, I know her already! We met at the gala, in fact, I promised to visit her kid brother, although I think she's forgotten about it by now."

His eyes had glazed over. "I knew I made the right choice in coming here to seek your help. You do realise we've made headway without really having to put anything into it?"

"No," Cagalli answered stupidly, "I don't quite see what you're getting at, Shinn. Her kid brother's not going to help us much in your conquest to convince Meyrin to be with you. Unless she knows the brother and listens to him the way I listen to Kisaka for advice when dealing with those weird proposals those ministers keep coming up with, a pay cut for nurses who get pregnant, things like that."

"Don't you see?" He asked impatiently, showing the indication of the rash energy that he had once been characterized by, "You can speak to Bonita on the premises that you're visiting her brother, and hint to her that Meyrin should stop being so inaccessible to non-females!"

"I see your point, "Cagalli said, catching on fairly well, trying not to let herself sound faint, "And I can catch up with her, I've got her number and-,"

"Not that," Shinn said seriously, watching her with the intensity the blood of his eyes gave him, "You'll be going to PLANT soon, I suppose, and I'll go with you. Bonita won't know what hit her. But first,-"

She dreaded this, she knew what was coming, and the pit of her stomach felt terrible, and she could have sworn that she wanted to throw up there and then. Her flesh felt cold, and her palms were faintly wet. But Shinn eyed her and smiled gratefully, so desperate for his acceptance she was, Cagalli realised, that she would have done anything for him. Besides, she had already given her word and this was irretraceable to someone like Shinn.

The fish were edging back, quite forgetting their previous fear at the sudden shock of her hand being removed from the water. The larks above them were singing, and the birdsong was melodious but it had little calming effect on Cagalli. While the wind blew, a troubled expression passed her brow but she did not let Shinn see this, afraid he would know how to read her the way Athrun was adept at doing.

"You'll have to go to PLANT." Shinn said in as a sort of afterthought


	32. Chapter 32

Disclaimer: I own nothing of GS/GSD. R&R Please.

* * *

Chapter 32 

The PLANT High Council was settled; Lacus was sitting adjacent of the Vice-chairman and looking the way she would have never on a normal day- ill at ease. Some of them asked her if she felt fine, to which she smiled and nodded. It wasn't as if her discomfort could bring a life back.

The other ministers were assembling, like a sky of silent, flapping birds, clad in the full black of their politician suits or in white uniforms if they were of the military. He was in the black suit, however, he wasn't here as a Commander today, he was here as the Chairman of his council. Lacus was wearing a black gown with white hems, she looked especially stern today, but nobody was any different. The few EA representatives were dressed similarly, and they merged with the majority of Coordinators effortlessly. The ORB representatives would arrive soon.

Athrun checked his watch- any time now.

He glanced around, imagining that those already assembled were either young politicians or very enthusiastic about this. With all intent however, Athrun had arrived early. The PLANT annual conferences were not to be taken lightly. For so many years, the PLANT conferences had been merely the Coordinators manning its running, but in the recent years, with the peace efforts leaping through paces well, a small handful of EA and ORB representatives witnessed this and sometimes participated if their territories were brought into mention. This year would no doubt follow the particular track that had been consistent for quite some while.

He smiled at Lacus comfortingly from a distance, quite necessary, for the hall resembled a stretch of a gladiator ring, arcs and arcs of leveled chairs and slightly tensed bodies occupying them. She did not quite see him in the bluish lighting of the hall, she was consulting the Vice chairman, possibly on a speech she would have to make a while later.

Already, Yzak, seated quite near to him, was in heated argument with the Minister of Social Welfare, and yet, Athrun found that he could not listen attentively. The flow of conversation around him was far too scattered and individual pods of thought according to the people sitting in certain corners. He would wait for the conference to actually begin.

His watch face was gleaming at him, and his emerald eyes were reflected in the silver, but he hardly saw the numbers or registered the time. By no means was it late, but waiting was something akin to the soul being gnawed and tormented.

It was unjust. She could torment him in so many ways without her presence being known in this room as of yet, for now anyway.

Then the doors were flung open, an usher bowing them in, and the last of the people arrived and were guided to their perches, like birds given a choice of where to stand in a giant cage that made no difference to their lost freedom. Amongst them stood Cagalli, dressed in a formal black suit and her eyes sharp and wary. He was quiet, hearing his heart beat hard and powerful as he glimpsed a fleeting pass of her face, and the way her eyes caught his like a silk thread on a singular cold steel hook and unraveled the world it was part of.

A second later, they dropped their eyes simultaneously, burnt.

"All present. We shall commence."

Neither participated very much in the first of these conferences, more important for Cagalli was her presence to build up the strength of the relations and appearance of the leaders of ORB and PLANT being on cordial terms with one another. She was the only representative of ORB today. The PLANT council had sent their permanent secretary, and she nodded at him. The other ministers were seated around the chairman of PLANT, like gems surrounding the centermost jewel in the arc of the crown. Amongst the outer rim, carefully positioned to fit those of slightly lower ranks and the progressive hierarchy, was Athrun Zala.

When it was all over, slightly after an hour, she got up with the rest of the ministers and moved ahead; lost in the carnival of formally-dressed men and women who grappled with the future of PLANT and their part they were assigned to play in it.

The next day, she attended a similar one and was just as obliged to speak up as the first one. Silence amidst a room of urgent propositions and sometimes, tense objections were becoming a standard for the representative whose responsibility was to lend her presence to create a good impression for all three superpowers of the Cosmic Era.

In the next few days, this was congruent. Athrun was called in to offer his opinion more and more, he and Yzak were often asked to provide evidence to support certain stands and supplement policies with their own thoughts, and both were magnificent, beast-tamers in all respects.

A single word from the recently-promoted under-General was sufficient to formulate a wave of talk for every single politician who was in the room. Athrun was similar, although he was admittedly slyer in his approach. He would agree and list the good points in the argument, but then use them against each other if he did not approve of them, and therefore make the entire argument a fallacy with an unforgivable number of contradictions. On that particular day, he, with a few other ministers, had refuted an entire proposal on intervening with the oil markets in PLANT, and as they were dismissed after a grueling discussion, Cagalli noticed the dark circles under his eyes.

More disconcerting were the depths of emerald in her direction which she could not measure even if she had dared to look into them.

It was soon her turn to speak up in the passing of each conference after another. She tackled them fairly well when they concerned ORB, and was forced to disagree entirely with a proposal Lacus was supposed to put forward. Lacus was like water, she thought wearily after that, strong and melting, weaving its way into whatever space it was given to establish its own power, but even she had had to admit Cagalli's objections were highly valid. The Council eventually agreed to compromise, and later, Lacus laughed it off with her as they praised each others' performances over a comforting cup of tea for Lacus and coffee for Cagalli.

She was dismayed when Lacus said sweetly, "I won't be going tonight. I want to make sure I know what my child looks like while he grows up."

Because the pain was so real.

The High Council of PLANT passed her by, and her bodyguards, both of them, bowed low and reverently. And Cagalli saluted in response to theirs, a smile faint on her lips. Lacus was amongst them, fresh and beautiful in her somber ensemble, and for that matter, Cagalli suddenly understood what the Naturals were sometimes so afraid of where the Coordinators were concerned. They seemed so knowing, so complete, so unbroken.

Eileen Canaver stopped, however, and walked back to her, a lone black swan from the flock. Her lips were as ruby as they had been, and her hair thick and luxurious like before, but now her face showed a few signs of age, and Cagalli's eyes trailed them softly.

"How are you?" She asked pleasantly, taking Eileen's hands. The woman's eyes glimmered with a familiar smile, and she embraced Cagalli gently. "You need to learn to be an adult," Eileen said thoughtfully, "Always so open and trusting, one day you'll feel as old and disillusioned as I do, and then you'll know you've grown up."

They laughed, although they both understood that Malchio had died a child with the experiences of an adult. And their eyes were sad even though their smiles were genuine. The newspapers would not report the death of the gentle man, he had not played a very large political role other than being an unofficial advisor to Siegel Clyne a long time ago, and Cagalli thought now that it had been better that his funeral was quiet and peaceful by the sea. She hadn't attended, she hadn't even gotten to PLANT, but that was all in the past.

She made a mental note to visit the sea where his ashes had been blown by the wind above the rocky, solemn cliffs as the waves rolled against the surfaces and services.

As Eileen left hastily, finally having realized the need to catch up with the other council members' retreating steps, Cagalli laughed and promised to speak her in greater detail during the night's soiree. And still smiling faintly, she turned around a corner of the behemoth place and walked her face straight into a familiar chest.

She recovered sufficiently to turn a deep rose and stammered to the bodyguards, "Leave us until I call."

They bowed and disappeared swiftly around a bend, and she looked up into Athrun's expressionless face. He was surveying her from the shared angle their height difference forced them to, emerald observing downwards, gold shyly looking upwards, and she took a few steps back, embarrassed that she was still so close to him.

"How are you?" She asked idiotically.

He smiled courteously and inclined his head as if they were strangers, impersonal and distant.

"Tonight," Athrun said simply, as if she had asked for the time and not his well-being, "Wear the cobalt chiffon."

It wasn't a request. His eyes were paralyzing in their cool demeanor but the dark rim around them, threatening to infect the entire pupil and dye it forest dark with something else made her lick her lips nervously, trying desperately to rid it of the desert it was.

He observed her for a few more minutes and strode away.

That night, she wore the delicate sea-foam green gown the gentle Lady Sahaku had presented her with from her coronation as a twelve year old in varying sizes from that year onwards until she had reached eighteen and had stopped growing taller. Her hair was as brilliant under the light as with the traditional gold amulets weighing her wrists and arms down.

She fulfilled her promise to Eileen, spending most of the time talking to the gentle lady about happier things, happier times, although Eileen did not quite know why Cagalli's eyes were filled with a vague pain at times.

"You know," Eileen said brightly, "Yzak's been promoted already, and I think Athrun's headed for one too. At this rate, you'll have to fight of more girls than the usual."

She joined Eileen in her laughter, although her chuckles were lacking in authenticity.

Athrun did not approach her the entire time, and she was opposite him as they dined in quiet discomfort. Tonight, he was wearing deep maroon that set off his midnight hair and eyes. And her own eyes couldn't help but linger on his sensuously-parted lips as he dined and spoke to the people, his eyes expressive and eloquent by themselves.

She smiled faintly when they were asked to take a photograph for publicity's sake and bent herself towards him, subconsciously hiding away from the obtrusive flashes with his presence as he slid and arm around her shoulders, his hand tentative even when the action was fluid and decisive.

And it was difficult, being like this, nursing the wounds they'd dealt each other the last time and knowing they wanted to forgive and be forgiven while being obliged to give appropriate replies not unlike those they'd given at the PLANT gala months ago.

She wondered what the faces of those around her would hold the hour she admitted that the papers were in the midst of being signed.

He tried not to think of what a waste it was, what a complete, entire, terrible waste, like dreams being poured like a golden, fragrant, brilliant concoction of wistfulness, love and joy, down a drain of regret and dark, lonely days that swallowed the pain of memories but the good in them as well.

The dancing began, and she graciously excused herself with the quiet dignity that impressed those around her, for being 'entirely exhausted by the wonderful evening, a pity, really.'

Athrun obligingly ended whatever he was doing, and the ruse struck her as being a cruel reminder of the planned act they had staged previously.

When they left, they walked in silence and unseen by the others in the menagerie of finely-dressed people; they chose a street each and followed the dichotomy of the road.

His breath hinted of sweet musk and champagne-tinted desire.

And her eyes held little more than tremulous sadness and she held her shoulder back, proud and well into numbness.

They did not exchange a single word except for Athrun's polite, distant, "Goodnight" and Cagalli's soft "Goodbye."

The next morning saw her entirely depressed as she ended conference after conference, mentally spent and hopelessly trying not to look out for him as he addressed the case with vigor in his voice and passion in his hands that gestured as he spoke.

Another two soirees went by, and the flow of champagne was equivalent to the multitudinous fountains of milky marble cupids that shot water in streams from the tips of their slim arrows. The decadence was deafening, the orchestras like armies of sound, vanquishing every minute of possible silence with singing viols and the commands of the percussive beats. The food was delicious and sickening, she could not eat more than a little because of the sheer waste that it was. And the gowns were robbing her of sight, robbing everything of their brilliance, everything of their morality, the simplicity that had once defined the world around them.

Her shoes tonight, were satin and studded with tiny pearls. Her feet were shod in blisters inside.

And she was being tortured from inside as she found Athrun's eyes on her as she meandered amongst the guests, and she was tormented by the fact that she was unconsciously watching his back as he moved past them all, well-dressed and gravely handsome. As the hours dragged on, the sensible, brilliant words of the royalty and literati became addled with alcohol, battered by boasting of how much they had achieved over the years, and there were fairy rings of singing quartets with each others shoulders as the links. The dancing was unbridled now, all over the lawns with their neatly-trimmed grass, and the sober ones commenting how much the others were enjoying themselves.

Away from all this, Cagalli wandered, unable to lose herself in merriment and fellowship, her dress not any less grand than any woman's, but wistful and beautifully melancholy on her silhouette as she strolled in a far away corner in shadows the evening cast.

There were a line of bird cages, gilded and elaborate at the far end of the vast gardens that had been prepared for tonight. And Cagalli understood why the Naturals had hated the Coordinators for their prosperity and careless affluence, their glamour and their hedonistic ways. Any success was attributed and blamed to their superior genes, and even hard-earned money was discounted. Why not play with easy-earned money then?

Eileen Canaver had told her once, "In this world, a poor Natural hates the rich Coordinator for being a Coordinator, and not for being richer than he is."

Now, Cagalli saw the logic and the rational of it all. The lawns were ridiculously neat, perhaps even more well-groomed and maintained than horses in royal stables, and the tables were nearly giving way with the sheer palette of comestibles piled, layer upon layer, forcing their weight on them.

While the other guests sipped champagne and spoke of pleasant things, she stole away to the line of bird cages where the birds were singing merrily, unfamiliar to the freedom of the skies.

She looked at them carefully, hearing their songs in the silence distance gave her, away from the masses and the never ending symphonies of frivolity. But the birds were not very different; they were ridiculous little puffs of singing feathers with tiny beaks and beady eyes dulled by inactivity and the lack of the wind under their wings. They didn't know any better.

Her fingers slipped under trap door without resistance. It was a picturesque sight, row and row of captive birds in gothic-structured churches of cage after cage, housing each in blissful ignorance of the skies, and a princess bending slightly, her golden hair still in the evening and her gown encrusted with glass pieces that were worth half a country. The little things were those that were counted, were valued, and seen ironic that the most important ones were forsaken for a glorious cage.

"Do you remember how to fly?" Cagalli asked one under her breath. The little bird cocked its head at her in slight fear at a human being so near to the boundary of its world, and she sighed.

"I think you do," Athrun's voice said suddenly behind her and over her shoulder. Her fingers, on the cold, obsidian gilt of the cage froze, and a hand, connected to the luxuriously cold arm, reached languorously over her bare shoulder and his fingers connected with hers.

She tensed like the bird in the cage. Unlike the bird, however, she did not have any more distance to pull back to, away from Athrun.

"You know what to do, don't you?" He said softly. It wasn't a question.

She shivered inwardly, admittedly, it would be slightly chilly tonight and her dress bared her collarbone and her shoulders. His voice was husky in its tenderness.

With a sudden tug to the sky, he lifted the trapdoor open, her fingers still under it, and the bird hopped off its tiny perch and fluttered into the azure.

They did not watch it taste its forbidden fruit, did not witness the other birds flutter madly in their cages, disturbed by the revelation. Instead, they were simply frozen that way, like statues of marble and fine jewels, carved only for eternity to watch them become reduced to shapeless components they had once been carved from, for the entire cycle to be repeated again.

"When will you be ready?" She asked desperately.

His eyes darkened, but the only point of contact they made was his hand on hers, still immobile upon the trapdoor. His body was not pressed to her back even when something in her was crying out for him to meld her body to his and lock her in his embrace, and his lips were only near to the sensitive rims of her ear and not hungry upon hers.

"Soon," He promised her, his voice luxuriant with the quiet acceptance of pain. "I'll give you anything you want."

"Thank you," was all Cagalli managed. She made a valiant effort to take her hand under his, but he prevented her from doing what she had tried to, until he gave a little sigh that was like a bullet of misery into her chest as he took his hand away and turned to leave.

She did not return to ORB immediately, however. She had certain matters of unfinished business to deal with. She would call on Bonita first, and then she would prepare to leave for ORB with the signed papers, and the little pebble would begin to roll, faster, and faster, and never let her forget that she had pushed it down the hill first. Athrun would aid and abet her, he was obliged to now. And he had promised.

One afternoon, she held a scrap of paper, hoping it was the correct address and the correct house, and knocked the door. The woman who opened it looked remarkably like Bonita, and Bonita, who had purposely visited her mother's just for that day, let out a high-pitched squeal and the boy hiding behind his elder sister had a face that simply glowed.

The afternoon was pleasant enough, and Gerard was a lovely boy, although Bonita didn't take her word for it and bullied her younger brother at every opportunity that presented itself. Of course, Cagalli thought happily, this was a sibling aspect that was normal. She ducked as a pillow came sailing past her head and hit Bonita squarely on the face, courtesy of Gerard as the childish but undeniably adorable squabbling began. And they did all this while their mother stood, looking quite embarrassed at their childish ways until Cagalli took Gerard's side and they joined forced in pummeling Bonita and tickling her until she begged for mercy, tears trickling down her cheeks.

And when Cagalli finally managed to leave, Bonita promised to treat her to a drink for being so kind to all of them. Helplessly but willingly as well, Cagalli agreed. They arranged a date, and then Cagalli remembered what Shinn had requested of her. Smiling slightly and shrugging, she made a mental note.

The grandfather clock, mahogany and expensive in the hotel suite corner chimed grandly. She looked at it, startled briefly, and counted the hours.

That night, she sat on her bed and dialed a number into the hotel phone, half-afraid that they would be taping conversations and half-chiding herself for being paranoid.

There was a dull interlude of ringing until it was broken by a sharp voice, "Who is this?"

"Athrun, I-," She began weakly. Her hand automatically tried to lift herself out of the troubles that were flowing in her mind, but by her hair. Angrily, she placed it firmly in her lap.

His voice had changed, it was less brusque, more accommodating now that he had confirmed who it was. "Can I help?"

"You can," Cagalli said hastily, "I'll be leaving the day after tomorrow. I-,"

There was an uncomfortable silence, but thankfully, Athrun did not torment her anymore than the silence did.

"Very well," He said evenly, as if she had asked for a simple favour he could easily grant without very much of an effort, "I'll have them ready and signed by then. I'll contact you."

And Cagalli wondered if she could say everything she wanted to.

'I'm sorry it came to this.'

Sorry about how she wanted him to leave?

Or did she?

'You're the only person I loved.'

Then why, oh, why couldn't she forgive him?

Or had she even forgiven herself for allowing him to capture her heart and divide her from ORB to keep a portion of her for himself?

The phone was cut off from its connection. Neither of them was sure who had initiated this first, only that they held the phone in their hands for a long while after, once connected but now hopelessly clinging onto something quite disjointed from what had previously been.

She watched the grandfather clock chime in the corner for a bit more. She would set the pebble in motion soon, for in the morning, she would call Athrun.

That evening, Cagalli would have stepped out to meet Bonita, except that the girl had personally came over to the hotel to meet her. Getting a drink was a symbol of fellowship, getting drunk, Bonita had said conspiratorially, was a mark of sisterhood.

Cagalli wondered how she would break the news to Bonita that she hadn't gotten drunk in quite some time, but decided that pointedly drinking just apple juice all evening was sufficient for the none-too-dense Bonita, unless the girl was hopeless at taking a hint.

"Why, you needn't have bothered," Cagalli said in surprise, a few hours into the start of the dusk settling over the sky, cautiously opening the door of the suite room to reveal a fresh, pretty Bonita wearing a sparkly blue frock. She caught sight of the bodyguards who had escorted Bonita up and smilingly waved them away, her attention still focused on her rather comely friend.

"No, don't say that," Bonita giggled, offering a ridiculously charming gurgle of laughter, a bit like a stream that had life breathed into it by the wind and rocks it held, "I want to show you around. It's the least I can offer you, really."

She glanced at Cagalli and pouted childishly. "Aren't you going to dress up a little?"

They scrutinized what she was wearing, a simple blouse and skirt, not unpleasing, but rather drab if one began considering what she had worn for the past few days to fit in with the occasion and blend in with the people she had been associated with. In fact, Bonita had, and so this was a rather large letdown.

Her eyes sparkled indignantly, and she glared mock-accusingly at Cagalli.

"Alright," Cagalli conceded, a bit ashamed that she had put in so little effort when Bonita was being so accommodating and amiable, "I'm sorry, I'll go wear something more formal. I hope it's not a grand place you're taking me to, I'd feel the need to say something pertaining to my work and you know what that means."

They laughed, and the door shut securely behind as Cagalli strode to her wardrobe and stared hopelessly at all that was in it.

"I'll be-," Bonita exclaimed, seeing all the gowns that newspapers had featured Cagalli in, along with some other prominent figures in their own ensembles, "I never thought I'd see this! Don't worry, you can wear this one, can't you, Cagalli?"

"Er-?" Cagalli said guiltily hiding a black dress out of Bonita's prying hands.

"Get changed," Bonita ordered, "Or I'll tell Du Maurier what you wanted to go out in."

Ten minutes later, they were ready, except that Bonita showed a thousand signs of channeling Mana at that point, therefore pulling her into a chair and began applying expertly. Her rose petal lips were stained into two ripe slices of berry, and the fresh youth was encouraged to become colour and desirability in Cagalli's face. She looked at herself, clad in a soft black dress that covered neither her knees nor her neckline quite entirely, and protested, "I look like I'm in search of a rebound!"

"You do not!" Bonita cried indignantly, ruffled like a hen, "And that was only lipstick, not anything else, I didn't even bother with mascara! It's no use cooping you up here just because the Commander is busy with some other things, right? All you want is a drink with some good company like me!"

"Right," Cagalli said dumbly. She allowed herself to be led out, slightly unsteadily on her black heels, praying that nobody would see her or recognize her.

For all purposes, however, Cagalli somehow appeared more elegant than in her previous ensembles at the luxuriant soirees. Perhaps it was the pain in her heart that was hidden and buried, desperately ignored, or the sadness in her eyes or something whimsical about the way her mouth looked tonight. Men did not quite recognize her in a soft, ink-colored wrap that did not conceal her arms and only just reached her knees, and the scarf she had tied around her neck as a sort of defense hid her neck but was a direct imitation of her grace as she moved. Those who might have recognised her thought that the lady looked quite like somebody familiar, but did not bother to place their finger on the memory.

Bonita's driving was reckless, but not enough for her to be irresponsible. It was just that Cagalli would not have imagined a moment when she would whip out red nail polish during a red light, or buffing at another.

The streets were unfamiliar to her, she had never been to this side of the town, although it looked perfectly normal and there were bright lights echoing in the deep darkness of the evening. Bonita threw her keys to an attendant, and turned to her excitedly, chirping, "Well, we're here and you're not going to go home after a few drinks if I can help it. We'll go out for supper after this, and it's on me!"

"I won't stand on ceremony," Cagalli laughed, feeling slightly better that this was probably a place nobody would recognize or bother with her. Already, the attendant hadn't lifted an immaculate eyebrow upon seeing her. It was almost like anyone and everyone was equal in a bar like this, and this, Cagalli suspected, was probably the case anyway.

She walked in after Bonita, suddenly enshrouded by dim lighting, infectious, slightly too-loud music and an ocean that was people. The place was cold, and she shivered a bit, feeling like a drink that had been served with ice, the alcohol ready to warm up somebody's mood and mouth, and keep the conversation flowing like the drinks served by the bustling bartenders. She was aware then, that Bonita was telling her that there were some friends from ZAFT that she wanted Cagalli to meet, and she nodded cheerfully, unable to hear herself think quite clearly in the noise and the chatter and the lights, until she caught sight of Athrun.

He was staring straight at her.

Instinctively, without thinking, her face paled and Bonita, already lost in the crowds in search of the aforementioned group of friends did not see her turn wildly and slip out from the massive engorgement of crowds and pull herself out of the place. There was only enough time to stammer to Bonita, "I'm going out to have fresh air, I'm not used to uh-smoke and-,"

She flinched as Bonita absently nodded, not quite hearing, and turned on a heel, marching out.

And it was therefore certain that Bonita, occupied by now and cheerfully discussing something with a friend did not catch sight of Athrun standing up and moving out to chase after the person who had fled.

* * *

**The names of the twins (refer to upcoming chapters) are more or less decided.**

**1.) Aiden and Alexander**

**Meaning 'little fire' for Cagalli, thanks to Sundowners and Freyis who both came up with the same name. And the latter menas 'defender of men' for Athrun. Some genius suggested that they sorten it to Alex, as in Alex Dino, and I said, "NOT BAD!"**

**2.)Ryu and Riku**

**Meaning dragon and land respectively. A reviewer PMed me with the names, sorry I can't remember who you are!**

**3.) Yuuta and Kenji/Kyo**

**Brave, masculine and apricot respectively. I sorta liked this one even though it didn't have the same alphabet.**

**I'm stuck on deciding, help me**!


	33. Chapter 33

Disclaimer: I own nothing of GS/GSD. R&R please.

Warning: Slightly mature content.

* * *

Her legs were urging her to move on, but she knew they were unstable, shaking slightly in her shock. And so she reached out for the nearest thing she could hold onto, a solid bar of steel, the railing that separated the dark foliage and distant lake from the empty roadside she was at, outside the bar from which she had fled.

Her hair was in her eyes and she brushed it away impatiently, angrily even.

What was the point of trying, trying so damn hard to not feel, to not feel so much, so damn much the minute she had seen him. All this ached in her like a sore that would never heal and close and allow its own mark to fade.

And why was she running away like this? A scornful thought grazed her, for Cagalli had done nothing wrong to warrant a criminal's behaviour, and yet, her features were marred with guilt, and she sat on the railing, gripping her purse and wondering what she ought to do. She would call Bonita from the hotel once she'd gotten a taxi, hailed it fast enough for a painless getaway. And suddenly, it struck Cagalli that someone was coming, emerging from the distance.

Footsteps she feared where echoing towards her, and she was startled to find Athrun standing before her with a deadened expression on his handsome face, like he'd gotten drunk but wasn't actually, as if he didn't know what to feel from all the numbness he'd put into himself. She was made to feel like a hunted animal, given no opportunity to run and hide when he came for her, knowing nothing except that he wanted her and badly.

Cagalli looked away from him towards the side, vaguely embarrassed and upset that he hadn't taken what she had wanted to give him at face value, leaving and pretending she'd never seen him there. And the dark road ahead of them loomed deep and great, a gigantic meandering lake of ink, dyed by the erstwhile blackening sky as both merged from where the eye could see, preparing for the coming of dusk. The darkness around them was now quiet and insidious, but the lamplights above them, lining the street side for nobody but them, since the cars weren't here, defied the night, made it seem golden in some spots.

They spent a few seconds more of awkward silence until she turned back to him and asked, upset, "Why are you here?"

And the redundancy of the question made her blush to her neck as she bit her lip full on the bottom and Athrun frowned a little.

He took a firm step forward and she might have fell off the cold, hard rail she sat on in her panic if he hadn't gripped one end of the scarf she was wearing protectively around her neck. Cagalli flinched, he looked into her eyes, dropping his cold wall of silence as the eyes became alive in his face, intense and demanding for things she didn't know how to give or what they were in the first place. His hand was cased around the end of the scarf, and slowly, Athrun spun his wrist forward until the entire length was masking his fist partially and his long, slim fingers were positioned at the boundary of her chin and her neck.

His touch burned her, and she thought of what he could do to her, and her eyes widened instantly, well aware that he was most probably reading and capable of understanding her thoughts. His eyes were boring holes into her, and he half-smiled, as if confirming her rampant thoughts.

"What are you doing?" Cagalli cried, in shame and terror. His eyes flashed then, and before she could even feel fear, Athrun had yanked her off the rail, a hand gripped on her scarf to control her, and she realised it was a leash onto her neck now, and might have cried out further if she hadn't been enveloped in his waiting arms, against the hard, real lines of his broad chest. Their faces were barely inches apart, and the realisation of that made her squirm like an inexperienced girl. Had her scarf undone before he had leashed her, she might not have been undone by it. The irony made her even more panicky and she began to struggle like a wild animal.

His eyes were dark with anger, misery, lust, disdain, desire, and everything she could find no words for in that very instant. But Athrun didn't stop there, he simply didn't. If he had, perhaps nothing would have gone wrong from that singular second, but he half-smiled, half-smirked at her, stunning her completely as he said recklessly, "You look beautiful tonight."

Her throat resembled a desert, and she licked her lips nervously. But anger had reared its head in her like a monstrous python, coiling and striking then, and she hissed with poison laced everywhere, "Only because I look like a whore."

Hatred worse than anything she'd seen coloured his features although he did not blush with anger, because Athrun Zala was like that, his wrath was cold whereas hers was a fiery temper, and she knew now, that the former was the worse of both. But he swooped low, a hand forced to her chin, bounded by the scarf, and the other forcefully pressing her body to his open one, and it was a deeply possessive kiss, his mouth on hers as she stood, frozen, and she was no longer tense with fear but strangely limp with his vented anger flowing through the channel she'd unwilling provided.

And an alarm bell went off in her head and she broke free of him and with a singular motion, undid the scarf, tugging and pulling it off madly, leaving an end attached to Athrun's hand and pushing the distance further away until she was safe from him as he stood silently, watching her with the end still attached brokenly. He let it fall from his hand, a colourless, insubstantial wisp of chiffon, like smoke that traveled down to the earth rather than to the sky, and she started like a frightened cat, aware that his eyes were fixed on her.

Her eyes ran to the end of the road, and a fresh wave of panic swept over her, but her humiliation and pain gave her a beauty that was accented by her fury. In the haze of what she was seeing, she was only vaguely aware that she was panting madly, like she had run a long distance, but what she more aware of was the fact that Athrun was silently watching her.

The kiss was still lingering, and guilt was riding through her, making the most of her fear, and in an unthinking, brilliant serve, Cagalli had struck Athrun across his face. The pain under her palm, a searing blade of fire made her flinch like him, a common reaction to both their pain, so deeply shared then.

"You don't have to lower yourself to bed me," She hissed for the second time, shame still everywhere in her trembling lower lip, full and pink by his kiss but she raised a tremulous hand to touch it, unaware that she was intensifying the desire in him, "You can have any woman you want."

His face registered a second's worth of shock, then wild anger and pain swept into his face, penetrating the mask through his eyes, until she was reminded of how precarious her situation was, and still trembling, she ran forward into the darkness, not understanding anything other than the instinct to run away from her predator, to be safe from his touch and more crucially, safe from herself. And that was enough to urge her badly balanced feet forward on the heels she had put on for just one night, and she tripped more than once but regained the little stability she had from the start.

Athrun's face was molded resolutely, still flashing in her mind, and she was horrified to hear his footsteps after her, terrified to realise she was the hunt this night, and knowing fully well that she would never outrun him like this. And at that precise moment, she stumbled terribly and knocked herself forward, but Athrun had seen this, his face had been of a wild fury but he had leapt forward and was pulling her weight skywards, undoing the fall she had brought upon herself, until she was shivering and pressed in his arms, the height difference made up for, just for tonight

And why had she ran from him? It wasn't just the fear, it was the instinct, the very animal instinct to run when being chased, and she had, she had tried. But it wasn't enough; it was never enough for anything. The street lamps were taunting her, laughing hard now in their giggles of spotlights.

"Stop chasing!"

He saw then, that tears were teeming from her glistening golden eyes, and the street lights were not the cause of their glimmer. Her lips were poisoned with delicate reverberations of her agony, and his hands, tight around her hands in that moment where he had prevented her painful tumble towards to earth, were still stationary there, inactive. Angered by her traitorous tears, she pulled a hand from his grasp and swiped them away with the back of her wrist, her features defiant and harsh. And his eyes were tortured as he looked quietly at her, unappeased by her suffering because his was so much greater by watching her suffer.

"Let's settle this once and for all," Athrun said softly, but with that edge in his voice that made her tremble. He watched and waited.

And finally, she nodded, desolate in her state of mind. She had no choice, that much she was aware of then. She stumbled forward as he guided her, blinded by the knowledge that even if she hadn't met him here, hadn't been brought here, she would have been most likely to have gotten drunk, struggling back to the hotel and sleeping soundly until the morning to call for Athrun to do what he had to do. And that wouldn't have been easier than this in any case.

She gave a gasp, she was suffocating, but a second later, she had quietened. In his car, the air was palpitable, tensed with fear of what the other could do to affect them, and even then, Cagalli saw sometimes, that Athrun's eyes were not on the cars behind them. He was not a reckless person; he had never been and would never be, but tonight, there was an indefinable urgency that coursed through their bodies like an unbridled ocean. She saw then, that his eyes were sometimes on her exposed neck, darkened with something she did not know how to describe but recognized and shivered, not because of the cold. Her eyes were forced to focus on her hands, clasped tight in her lap, until she heard his voice telling her they had arrived and it was slightly safer to look up to meet the desire in his eyes.

With a single flip of his fingers, she was blinded by the light that flooded his small apartment, and behind them, the door was locked firmly, as if daring her to comment on it. She did not however, her eyes were concentrating on what lay before her, and Athrun's presence, she saw, had defined the parameters of this place.

The books lay obediently and accurately arranged in their shelves, and the little glimpse of the kitchenette revealed the cups standing politely in their cupboards, the glass sanitized and respectfully glinting. The papers he had probably been working on were arranged in formidable stacks and weighed down with a folder as a paperweight, and everything was foreign in its appearance but somehow familiar in its nature of arrangement.

She was not a fool. He had brought her back here for reasons she could half-guess, reasons she herself half-harbored, and coming here of her own accord had been the same in result if he had forced her here, and yet, she had still come to him. Her mind was encapsulated then, in eternal, unthawing ice.

Awkwardly, she turned to him, afraid of the thick silence that had enveloped around them like a fog, binding them to each other. His eyes had followed hers in their paths, as if he revalued everything according to the reaction she took upon seeing his things.

"This place hasn't changed very much, probably," She said softly, watching his eyes watch her, feeling a tremor pass through her body and she consciously gripped her own arm, afraid of its potential threat to her dignity, "Because you haven't changed very much."

He looked softly and sorrowfully at her, and she had to look away, unable to meet his eyes.

"Will you come back to ORB with me?" She asked tentatively, "To have them signed? I'll get Kisaka to come as a witness, and then, we-,"

"I'll never give them to you." He said flatly, and she saw that anger was erupting in his face at her clumsy wreckage of the moment, and that desire had its hold still on him even as his eyes bore hatefully into her. She shook then.

"I, Athrun, you said-," She cried in her desperation, "You said you would, you promised!"

Her pain was making her incoherent and she was shaking her head, as if trying to clear all her muddled thoughts, trying to regain her composure once more in front of the man who could make her lose so much.

His eyes silenced her, filled with scorn and reckless impulse. "I said I'd give you what you wanted."

"But I want you to come back to ORB and finish this, I want you to give me what we both need to live properly," She pleaded, "I want us to stop pretending like this, stop having to tell others we are still what we once were!"

His eyes silenced her, forced a stop to her urgent pleas, and then she watched the ripple in his eyes, seeing something move in them, dangerous and brilliant.

"I'll teach you then," He answered blindly, harshly, his voice was an insolent whiplash of hatred, "I'll teach you to understand what you truly want, no, what you truly need."

And suddenly, in a singular, swift, blinding shove, Cagalli's back was facing the wall, and she hit it with a soft, dull thud as she gasped, feeling her eyes straining to widen, his hands on hers, his lips searching, searching and placing themselves on her neckline, allowing not even a gasp to be fully pronounced.

"Athrun," She sobbed, "Don't!"

But he didn't heed her, even as she struggled against him, kicking, biting, scratching everything that got near her reach, allowed itself to be reached by her, and she was reduced to someone like this, someone who had once commanded the troops by the thousands, untouchable, separated from a normal human. She was faltering now, hitting and bruising whatever she could, but then she suddenly jolted, realizing how little she could really hurt him. He took advantage of her hesitation and gripped both wrists, forcing her to hit the earth with her back as his form shadowed her almost entirely as they wrestled like dangerous beasts in search of elusive survival.

She blindly reached out and scratched him across his cheek and it seemed to fail in its intent to hurt, for he was already fighting her and defying all that she stood for then, and yet, this was no assault, it was a conquest, rightfully won, fair and just, for she was hurting him and he was allowing her to, and then fighting her back, allowing herself to defend against him in any way that she could think of.

And abruptly, her hand, harsh and forceful against his shoulder, trying to push him away from above her, froze in its track, in midair, and she closed her eyes, holding back the tears that would have spilled otherwise. Numbly, his left hand, previously holding down her wrist to keep her from wounding him, moved down slowly to meet hers, still transfixed in midair, and their fingers entwined like luxurious vines in the emerald forests as her free wrist moved slowly, hesitantly to the scratch she had made on his cheek, watching his close his eyes now, and then her hand broke free of his, and both arms, as if uplifted by the fanning of great wings that summoned healing winds around them, lifted her arms and secured them around his neck, pressing his entire being towards her, welcoming him in the flames of rediscovery.

And the night drew long and fine, like a quivering arrow upon its sturdy bow. He was demanding, utmost in his possessiveness of her, as if everything inanimate thing around them would conquest for what was rightfully his, and she understood his need and responded to every nuance in his touch, every soft cry that urged the flames to consume, consume all they could. Words were hardly spoken as they moved with a reckless urgency, and in their absence, they provided the primal longing that had been their foe but now friend for so long in those days after that day. Each dream was melded into each one, like a tapestry that did not know when to end on the loom of time, and the world around them watched silently, hearing words that were nonsensical, absolute nonsense but the simplest, most functional for the flames that swept in them. The words that were uttered were but sounds, cries and gasps, drawing him closer, brining her softly to him, and they lay in the night, the lights dimmed, drawing sensuous shadows on their entwined beings, leaving them afraid their immortal act would be beyond their physical flesh's comprehension.

Hours later, she lay in his arms, one immobile beneath her neck, her golden hair fanned our on the flesh that had caressed her own before, her body clothed in nothing but his embrace, his other arm wrapped protectively around her and his head resting on the white cotton pillow.

She lifted a tentative hand to count her fingers, as if seeing them for the first time, the hours that had passed since she had been brought her for him to caress her like this, the number of hours that had seemed insignificant then. Five fingers for six hours. And the clock began to strike twelve, and he unearthed his arm beneath her neck, took her other shoulder and rolled her so that her back would face the sheets entirely as he looked deep into her eyes and watched her watching him before they began to move in mimicry of the hands of the clock, once more.

After that, they simply lay in each other arms and talked. They talked about the silliest things, the most mundane things she could ever imagine, like how work had been difficult lately with certain developments, how fine Leon was growing up to be, how bad the weather was for their health, things like that, stupid little things like that. But she was happier than she'd ever been, and Athrun gradually lost the edge about him he'd carried for so long now, and suddenly, he was gentle, changed, different.

An hour or so passed, and he laughed and told her that he had paid the neighbours back sufficiently enough, with the surroundings the thin walls provided . She coloured instantly and hit him on his arm as they held each other fiercely and laughed, but then abruptly, quite strangely, she began to cry, and the tears fell and fell even as he swiftly wiped them away and kissed her until she was panting, choking from her tears and his kiss mingled together. And as breathlessly as panting, he looked upon her face, and began to stroke her, his eyes filled with promises, she thought later with some embarrassment, he fulfilled entirely.

He was never satisfied, he was impatient and needy the way she had never seen him before, and it made her lose her inhabitations, to grant him whatever he asked for, let him take her over and over again until she was swept away in a glen of sensuousness where all that mattered was him and how she could please him in return for what he gave her.

At a certain point, as she lay with her head tucked securely under his chin, a hand of his folded upon her forehead, stroking her hair, now damp and sweet with her sweat, and her own hand gliding gently down the lines of his chest, he asked thoughtfully, "Do you remember the time when you released the bird from its cage?"

Two spots of pink appeared on her fair cheeks, the same cheeks he had caressed with the tips of his fingers and kissed with soft lips, and she retorted indignantly, "It's not my fault that you came up behind me so suddenly and besides, you were the one who forced me to let go of the trapdoor!"

He laughed a little, fondly, a bit regretfully that her hand had ceased its pilgrimage when she had replied, and he took over what she had been doing by flipping her from her side to her back, like a pancake, she thought humorously,and he bgan tracing a similar path that she had traced on him, but this time with his mouth and lips and teeth. She made a soft keening sound in the tension of her pleasure, feeling as if a dream was now real in the deja vu way she had been once so afraid of but now welcomed eagerly, and his fingers aided him in his ministrations, but suddenly, he paused, ignoring her abrupt cry of displeasure, asking, "You asked if it remembered how to fly."

Her fingers had curled in his midnight hair, demanding his touch, accompanied by her soft cried, but now, she looked puzzled and then answered tentatively, "You said it did. It did remember how to fly."

He began to nuzzle her once more, and her lips parted in a silent cry, arching herself to him, arching herself for him as he flaunted his hold over her, pausing to take in her breathless, sultry gaze, the feel of her fingers growing strong in his hair as she guided him, and hereplied quietly, dangerous in the persuasion and depth of his voice. "Something that is born to do what it must do can never forget how."

Later, she observed a sudden attack of exhaustion bring him from the insatiable nature of the flames into an edgeless, soft spell of sleep. She watched the pattern of his breathing, magnified by the rise and fall of his chest become steady and even, and slipped out from under his arms the way he always pinned them down to prevent her from kicking and punching in her sleep, unwilling to take a sheet away lest he was brought awake. And she looked around, the room where they had migrated into was locked, and the only thing left there was a shirt of his that they had together removed. And she slipped it over her head and curled into a ball, perched on a seat, as a slow but deadly panic tugged at her as she sat there, thinking so hard that her head ached even while the memory of the delicious things he had done to her played havoc amidst her fear.

The clock chimed three, and she was startled when his eyes fluttered open, and she watched him sit up, the sheet slipping from his chest to his waist to reveal the long thin, red lines she'd left with her fingernails, some by accident, some not quite, but all accepted and relished before he turned on her and paid her back double. He had sat up, jerky and ill at ease, until he saw her and a beauteous smile sent her heart fluttering and she slipped in her nervousness. He shifted over, nearer to her, and then swiftly reached out and hauled back to where she had been, where she rightfully belonged, to him. He did not just hold her, he was an unleashed fire of passion again, claiming her, tearing his own shirt with so much force that she gasped, and she fed him whatever that he wanted and took all that she wanted from him in return.

When some passage of time had been swept down in their tirade of feeling, she lay nestled to him, once again bare, save for his arms around her. But he was lazily tracing words everywhere on her with his fingers, and she concentrated a little but enough to realize they all spelt the same thing on her neck, arms, back, chest, everywhere he could lay his hands on as he periodically kissed her forehead, almost reverently but the mischief in his eyes betrayed the chastity of the kiss. And she looked at him, and he asked no questions but his eyes conveyed his message. They both knew what he had written. Mine.

And she nodded, and he was pleased, and he let go of her only to recapture her in the way he wanted, the way he needed so that her cries and his own would mingle together for the last time that night, for them to usher in morning like the single thread of the night's tapestry that was left running, unstoppably into the next sunrise of the day.

But as he slept, with that half-smile on his face that she caressed with a little touch of her fingers like a butterfly wing, she was seized by violent panic and she crept out, reluctantly putting on the ripped shirt that would probably never be in the reach of repair. His arms that had been curled around her, still gleaming and dripping, touched only the sheets and air. And she wanted, with all the fiber in her being, to slip back under his covers, hold him in return for holding her, daring to love him the way he did for her, feel him resonate and make her body sing for him like an instrument under his skilful hands, but the morning was the sobering drug from Bacchius' wine. She slipped off silently into the living room, and her eyes trailed the chaos they had left in the wake of their fire.

The world around her bore no semblance of Athrun's innate ability to keep things in order. Pieces of their clothes, some quite sorry looking, marked their trail the way the burnt leaves of a forest fire marked its path, the scenery in the picture was lopsidedly- diagonal from where she had accidentally lashed out at it while pressed against the wall, and the cushions from the couch he had carried her to were all over the floor from where they'd thrown them, and there were long scratches of her nails on the single, small armchair they had both sat. All these mocked her now, they bore testimony to the same fatal mistake they'd committed.

The carpet was badly arranged from the way they had tussled over it, and it lay at an odd angle, as if witnessing how she had brought Athrun to her, feeling his weight combine with hers upon the floor in a timeless, ageless moment of truth, and the guilt made her cringe.

Her eyes swept around, she saw the papers lying uncomfortably all over the floor when he'd swept them all off with a careless hand and led her atop the table surface before following, and she began to shake with laughter and sobs as she traced the war the two armies had fought through.

Then she quietened immediately, afraid he would wake and know what she was to do. And she pattered about as quietly as she could, rifling through all the drawers and cupboards until she found, unobtrusive in its brown envelope and neatly tied with a string in a loop, the things she had wanted to come here for.

And she took off his shirt reluctantly, gathering her clothes that had been deposited in a singular path to his bedroom, and began, hastily, to dress. She caught sight of herself in the mirror, caught in the afterglow of everything they'd done and she blushed, noting the places that had been marked by him. No scarf would hide those now.

But she did not allow herself one final look into the bedroom where he was still in the peaceful slumber they'd granted themselves for the night, and with a stifled sob, she took whatever she had came here for and moved away from all that she had cherished the night before.


	34. Chapter 34

I own nothing of GS/GSD.

R&R please.

* * *

Chapter 34

Morning came in unannounced, like an assailant of the dark, passionate night, stabbing the first skirts of the twilight colours with a blade of gold indifference to the women that reluctantly got up to make breakfast and clean, oblivious to the lovers who woke up entwined in each others' bodies and the mussed sheets as a single being. And the rays were warm but uncaring of the pain it brought to those who did not want morning to come. Athrun Zala was one of those.

He stirred slightly, the half-smile like a sickle moon on his lips and he turned a little, like a dolphin learning how to control the currents under it as he began recalling the cramped space of his bed when she had been sharing it. And now he opened his eyes in an imitation of the crack of dawn, when they had still been very much awake and alive in each others' arms, lovers guilty of what defined them as lovers, lovers who fought to bring back simpler times and uncomplicated gifts to each other.

He had brushed away her tears at one point, asked helplessly, "Does it hurt?"

A question like that would never make sense; he had done nothing to hurt her physically, or at least not enough for her to weep as passionately as she had. But he thought of his cruel words, his deliberate attempts to wound, and had felt unworthy of being one with her then, felt that the hand that was sharing the liquid tears with her cheeks did not deserve to be even near her face.

She wasn't entirely faultless, she had spurned him in her own deliberate attempts to wound him, but then retaliating had been worse than even starting it. Why was the great hero who was placid, wise and who never lost his temper such a beast in these situations? He didn't know, only that being Athrun Zala with his troops, being that well-respected, enviable man was a façade of bestiality that Cagalli brought out in him, along with a gentle, open side to counter it all. And he knew then, that it wasn't the dual-nature of his character that Cagalli could unconsciously bring out, it was simply that with Cagalli, he wasn't Athrun Zala, he was simply Athrun.

His arms clutched an armful of the sheets in his half-conscious ephiphany, his body not quite released from dreams.

A single memory of the time before they'd separated flooded into the denseness of his sleep-muddled self, his eyes still closed in remembrance.

They'd been working on their own things in the drawing room, and she hadn't been speaking to him for quite some time after she'd lost their child. And in his weariness to recreate normalcy and the failure he'd found so far, he had threatened to tell Kira what had happened if Cagalli continued to ignore him. And her eyes had flashed and she had gathered her things and moved towards the door. She never liked threats, and he been a fool for using one, after he had known so well that if a person wanted Cagalli to do something, he would tell her not to and she would do it to prove she could. Hadn't she always been like that?

"If you step out of this room," Athrun had then said, pained and angered, "I won't forgive you."

She looked at him, her eyes liquid golden and mottled in agony and she lifted a handful of skirt and stepped cleanly over the door line.

And that had been his repeated mistake, that callousness that reared its ugly head in his need, his all-consuming need to possess her. Was Shinn or any other man, for that matter, capable of making her love him? He wasn't quite so sure, but he hadn't wanted to even allow a chance of that. And the mistake wasn't in the gravity of the threat and in the way Athrun had truly meant its essence; the mistake had been in making it in the first place.

His eyes now flew open, adjusting themselves to the ceiling, which didn't look as battered and sad in the light that was filtered through the drawn curtains. He vaguely remembered pulling them shut with only one careless, rough hand, the other holding Cagalli to him already, unwilling to let go for even one moment.

Athrun looked around, slowly sitting up, running a tired hand through his hair, recalling the way her fingers had felt in it, straining to hold him away but wanting him to come to her as well in that confusion of desire and aching need. And he strained to hear, perhaps, the sound of Cagalli moving in the kitchen near the bedroom in the small apartment, perhaps, hear the trickling of water as she rinsed in the bathroom adjacent to the bedroom, anything to tell him he was not alone.

But a strange incongruity stood out before him, perhaps the absence of the last item of clothing he had fed to the floor in order to hold her without any barrier of any kind, the very item, he thought wryly, that had allowed him to catch up to her as she had fled the previous evening. He looked around swiftly, the heels were indeed missing.

And that was when fear struck its way in, not unlike the wretched rays that had awoken him and illuminated what he was trying to hold- an armful of naked, empty air.

Clearing his throat from the last signs of slumber, Athrun called her name loudly, and heard nothing but the neighbours grumbling about inconsiderate bastards from the other side of the thin walls. He grimaced then and flung himself out, throwing the sheets that had served their purpose so well for both he and Cagalli aside with impatience and pulling on pants, absently searching for his shirt until he realized that she might have worn it again. Smirking slightly and running a hand through his hair, he strode out and stopped dead in his tracks.

The first thing he saw was the absence of the absolute warpath they had left in their trail the night before, and he immediately recognized how she had put everything back in its place, straightened the things they'd left crooked, and how she'd put his papers as best as she could onto the table, they being already hopelessly mixed up. And as an afterthought, she'd found the mug and put it there to weigh everything down, a parallel to the weight of what they'd done. But she had effectively removed her presence from this place, he thought slowly, and he began to stiffen, looking around for her, anything that might signal Cagalli's presence, and he found none.

No coat, no purse he had wrestled and threw aside as she gasped, no jet chiffon that had clung to her only a bit better than a second skin, no heels the thought she might have brought and arranged next to his own badly tossed shoes, and the Haumea he had taken and put around her neck last night, allowing it to dangle from her neck and then nestling in the valley he had touched with the tip of his tongue as she gasped, holding him tightly, now lay innocently on the little mantel he had snatched it off from.

For a minute, he thought he was dreaming.

For a minute, he thought nothing had happened, that he had just gotten drunk and got lost with dreams that led to an unwrapping of the first layer of the onion skin around the core, and then another wrapping and another until reality was not distinguishable, merely collapsible. But her recalled the vividness of her eyes, liquid gold and molten as her mouth opened, but the intensity of their passion made no sound emit from her parted lips.

His chest still stung a little, she had clawed him in a desperate attempt to escape and then later, an equally desperate bid for control as he had held her tightly to him.

But the world around him revealed nothing of the time she'd spent here, nearly, what was it? He had had her then, for half a day. All to himself. Was that all they amounted to?

And then the rage plunged like a knife slipping into soap, so quickly and gently it poured in and he was filled with doubt and the damned knowledge of what Cagalli had done, for he was seeing the world through her eyes, seeing what they'd left in their path to get to their final destination, seen what they'd done while they'd became animals, unthinking but innocent, blameless with nature's need.

He moved quickly, harshly yanking open the drawer he kept the most important things in and saw, with despair that left a terrible gash of pain in his chest even where she had placed her cheek against the night before for him to kiss her forehead, that Cagalli had taken the papers he had hoped she would retract and maybe one day with their children, burn it in a bonfire and laugh at the ridiculous nature of the past.

"She took them," He said quietly to the walls, and his face was mottled with grief and fury as he strode back to the bedroom they had spent half a day in, from the time he had brought her back here to the time he had carelessly fallen asleep in her arms, basking in her glorious warmth and entwining Cagalli in the sheets that permeated with sweetness after they had slept in them.

His eyes swept over the room critically and he saw that she had taken nothing with her except the papers, and that she would take everything away from him. The sheets would soon be made, soon lose the scent of their bodies, show him how transient her presence her was, how he had failed to make her understand their need for each other, failed to make her stay, failed to keep awake so she would not escape him-

He jerked suddenly, thinking of one point in the night, or was it the wee hours of morning? He had awoken suddenly as the clock struck, to see her curled in the shirt he had been wearing and ball-like in a chair, staring at him with hesitant eyes, and the way he had yanked her off her perch and took her back into the nest, to where he wanted her, to where she belonged, to him. But had she been planning what she would do already? Or had she done that from the single instant when they'd been wrestling like animals capable of anything but rationality, when she'd given up and then put her arms around him?

Covering his face in his hands had been the last thing Athrun Zala would have done in a normal situation. Today however, was not one. He sank into the chair she had sat in, a hand pressed to his forehead, wondering what the hell had gone on and why she was so stubborn, who had taught her to be so devious and cunning in reaching her goal, wondering who had even planted that goal in her in the first place. Athrun wanted to track her down now, carry her kicking and scratching form if he was obliged to do so, tussle her down to the bed and scream at her to wake from her nightmare and see him properly, see him for what he really was, see him for what she made him become without her to be with him.

A thought struck him and he reached over for the cell and dialed for his secretary.

She yawned as she answered, but snapped to attention when his voice, taut and commanding said, "Is there any information on this morning's shuttle back to ORB?"

"Hold on," he heard his secretary stutter and there were sounds of crashes here and there, like she was hurrying and scurrying from her quilts like a crab unearthed by a flipped stone, and some clicking here and there as he impatiently waited for her reply.

"Hold on," She repeated, "Er- there was one this morning, the earliest at about six-thirty. If I'm not wrong, all the ORB politicians and important personnel returned on that flight."

A hard click was the only thanks she received for that day.

He was already dialing for Cagalli, and it rang feebly, once and died like those hopes that were allowed to grow when they had been doomed to fizzle out with the harsh splashes of water reality kept throwing onto them, gleefully watching the, go up in nothing but insubstantial smoke. So she must have already been on a shuttle, must have gotten out from here fast, hailed a taxi doing its shift, ignored the yawned greeting the driver doled out and requested for him to step on it.

"Why?" He asked brokenly, staring at the cell. So Athrun put it away and filled with loathing for everything around him, slipped under the covers once more, but not before he drew the curtains, locking out the light, forcing darkness to be ushered into the room, blocking out sounds of the two college boys next door arguing with their one-time girlfriends on who would make the beds.

And sheer exhaustion came to claim his mind and subsequently his body, still half-dressed, and his grappled onto the little warmth left in the bed, tried to recall the way she had been, soft and giving, but somehow demanding as well, the night before, and how he had ached when she had uttered his name each time. Her scent, mingled with his stronger one had filled the sphere around them the night before, and in the morning and the passing hours of her absence, its power had been reduced to a wisp of fragrant desire, nothing more material than the smoke of hopes eroded by daylight after the night had passed its courses. And the way his weight on her body had been like the heaviest, most luxurious of quilts would melt into a wrinkle or two on the sheets, pressed by their conjoined forms, and then, with time, vanish to nothingness.

Athrun was not enough of a fool to call Cagalli and demand an explanation, even then. He would wait for her to offer one, and punish her when he had decided on one suitable enough for having fooled him, having bewitched him so effortlessly the first time he had calmed down enough to take a good look at her then boyish figure with giveaway curves she could not hide once he lost the armor of a soldier and became a seeing, feeling man. He would not forgive her for allowing him to kiss her, allowing himself to become reliant on her the way he had never been on anyone or anything before, and he would punish her for keeping herself intact for him and then taking herself away by the time he had woken from the spell Dullindal had cast with his persuasive, kind words and knowing, wise smiles.

And Athrun would not forgive her for bewitching him the second time he had seen her, pale and distant in the black of swans' downs, for putting her arms around him, embracing him as they sat alone under the foliage before the reporters had came and Kira and Lacus had had to deflect attention away.

He would not forget the time she had defied him with every fiber in her body, gone to find a dangerous killer who would have murdered the both of them if given a chance, to plead for Athrun to be left alone, the foolhardiness he would never forget.

And the way she had sat, soaked to the bone, miserable and bedraggled as he watched, numb with fear, from afar as Shinn, the boy who had become a man, offered Cagalli the shelter, his shelter, threatening to take her away.

Her words floated from the air, haunting him in ways he had been naïve of imagining before.

"I want us to stop delaying, to stop pretending we were as we once were!"

Had another claimed her for his own?

His heart was heavy then, filled with more than singular despair, but with pure vengeance if there was such a person, and peppered with stabs that almost threatened to make him cry out with agony. His lips were drawn tight, however, his eyes were nothing but numb, unfeeling orbs. He was a tolerating person, he had been when Yuuna had touched her, eyed him disdainfully with the superiority of a wolf taking the beta away from any one's grasp, and he had kept silent even though something raged in him.

He had sworn later, after Lunamaria had revealed to him that the ORB Princess had married someone, not him, that he would never make the same error of keeping silent when another man laid his hands on her. But had he already lost her to someone in all the time they'd spent apart from each other?

Doubt was startlingly poisonous, insidious in the rapier edge.

Two days later, his cell rang, and he brusquely took it and heard a wry voice he had never heard before, introducing its owner, "My name is Nells. I've been instructed, on behalf of my client, Ms. Atha to request of your presence in the emirates of ORB. Mr. Zala, did you hear me?"

"I did," Athrun answered, surprised he was even capable of doing that in his numbness. He was staring at a porcelain mug Cagalli had placed on his badly-mixed documents in hope that they would not fly off or get even more lost than they already were. The color was becoming blurred, mocking. He had an urge to ask her lawyer to find somebody else to mess around with, but his fingers were like ice upon the inanimate object.

"You are expected to arrive in ORB a day from now," Nells was saying simply, somewhat sympathetically, and the papers have been collated, all that is needed is your signature and a witness, who will be present on Ms. Atha's request. Is this understood?"

He didn't need anybody's sympathy, much less from a stranger he hadn't met before. That was shrewd of Cagalli, he thought hatefully, getting an unknown, young lawyer to deal with this, because an older, jaded one would want to make a stir of it to entertain his dinner guests with gossip on the various clients he had. But there was a stunning pointlessness in all of this. Once they'd signed everything, once everything was formalized, the word would be brought out and even this young gun would be talking, never mind that he wouldn't earn much profit from a domestic case like this.

"Understood," He answered numbly, "And is Ms. Atha there?"

A pause. He understood this; he wasn't an idiot to know that the lawyer was looking at Cagalli for approval. He didn't get it.

"No," Nells said, sounding slightly embarrassed. He would never make a good lawyer then, Athrun thought critically.

He cut the line promptly.

And a violent trembling seized him as Athrun turned calmly and swung his fist straight into the wall behind him, feeling the sickening, dull thud of the impact travel and shred the knuckles, feeling the bruises split into teeming blood lines and feeling the bones ache for what Cagalli had given him and then taken away.

An indignant 'Hey!' sounded from the other side of the wall, but he closed his eyes, hearing nothing and feeling numbness.

An hour later, his fist had became encrusted with blood and he got up from where he had sat, methodically put his fist under cold, gushing water, letting the sting pierce through his arm and then disappear after a while, and Athrun waited for the rusty-coloured water to become a running clear stream after a while. Like Cagalli's tears.

A tentative knock sounded, and he answered it slowly, opening it up to reveal Meyrin, shivering in the cold with her ridiculous pajamas and some heated food.

It was either that irony was forcing her on him each time Cagalli left, or she had a nose for sniffing out the times when she wasn't wanted and appearing right in the middle of the disastrous moment. He stared at her, dazed, not knowing what to say.

Her eyes were rolled pieces of the sky, put as beads into her face, fitted into the sockets, worried, solemn. "Are you okay, Athrun?"

'Yes,' He started to say, but he looked at her and swallowed.

"No," Athrun replied slowly, "I'm not."

He stood, looking at her quietly until she could bear it no longer and charged in, setting the food on the table, running to where he was still frozen, and then shutting the door with a resolute click. "Come here."

Inside, he was asking why she was being so kind to him, why she couldn't go and get a boyfriend to have her own troubles with, why she had to be the one comforting him in a state the one he loved had put him in. But he followed her dumbly and sat down on the couch woodenly, feeling misplaced suddenly, like she owned this apartment and not him, that all the things in here had her name written on them somewhere and he was a guest in his own place.

"I'm going to tell you something now," Meyrin said in a very low voice, "And you might be angry, but I know you'd never become insane enough to kill me for doing what I did."

"You brought Cagalli to where I was, didn't you?"

"I didn't," Meyrin answered in surprise, "I didn't know she wa- Oh, God, she was there? Tell me that-,"

He voice faltered, her shock was genuine, and Athrun shrugged cynically, eyeing her distastefully. "And I thought you were supposed to surprise me."

"Stop it," She said unpleasantly, "I'm not sure what happened and if you don't want to tell me, I have no right to ask, but stop egging me on then."

There was a silence. He was grimly triumphant and Meyrin looked perturbed.

"I suppose you don't believe me," She said finally, looking surprisingly unaffected by his dark mood. He shook his head a bit non-commitally, not quite caring to speak yet.

"Fine," Meyrin concluded, slightly coldly now, "I wanted to tell you that Lacus spoke to me. She has arranged for you to leave PLANT in a month's time, a month early before the new system of the Council has been stabilized. You've been here for a year and a half, it's time you went back to ORB."

"I don't belong there."

"Granted," She said impatiently, "You should be in PLANT, you're the head of the council you lead, and it's not common for a leader to be situated in ORB. But it's not impossible, nor is it unjust or a shirking of your duties. And I know-,"

Her eyes were hesitant, her voice paused. "I know you can win her back." 

"I shouldn't have even told you," Athrun said, not feeling merely a little bitter. He had been half-drunk then, snapped when she'd persistently asked while trying to prevent him from drinking, but he'd revealed it in a rare show of anger, and had he caused her to try and mend him and Cagalli?

"But you did," Meyrin said sharply, hiding her hurt expression, "And when Lacus hinted to me she would arrange for the return to ORB because she said you'd never agree to without someone pushing the step forward, I told her you expressed great desire to return to ORB. She was delighted with my answer."

He wanted to put his face in his hands and weep like a child, lost from where it belonged. But he fought for control, looked at a slightly confused Meyrin with blank eyes and told her simply, "I've already arranged to go back tomorrow."

Her eyes brightened, and she forgot all the questions heavy on the tip of her tongue, possibly how he had met Cagalli, what had happened, where was she now, things like that. Meyrin was like that, always listening so intently she lost herself in all the words the others spoke, losing her own voice. But now, she found it, and her eyes were luminous and her face sparkling with the beam that stretched widely.

"Athrun!" She cried, in a bliss that made a searing pain erupt in his head, "I knew you'd both come to your senses, I knew this wouldn't last!"

"Last?" Athrun said softly, in his pain, watching her eyes suddenly widen as she slipped out of her reverie and immense delight, "Nothing lasts. I'm going back tomorrow to finish it all, and I'll be back in PLANT before-,"

He found that he could not complete his words. He would not say that he would be back here in PLANT before the news broke out and the memories sacred to him were splashed as photographs in newspapers announcing the latest disappointment, the one enormous, unforgiving failure, so sparklingly terrible, his life would be wounded by forever. And the days loomed dark and wasted before him, perhaps a life bounded to his job because there was nothing he could find a reason to live or look forward to, perhaps he would be driven to the edge of loneliness then the way he had been for some days that he could now never forget.

Through a thick haze, he heard Meyrin's voice repeating a pained refusal to believe him, and he smiled blindly, watching her eyes grow wide and her words becoming inconsistent even while the truth of his words gleamed in the still air. He would, together with Cagalli, soon end all they had ever started.

When he arrived, he was clothed in a coal-colored suit and the dull throb at the side of his temples, like the hangovers he never really had coming in one devastating, sweeping blow that was Cagalli's betrayal to what they had shared. And the irony gnawed at him, for what they'd gained back in a single night had been lost in those hours as well.

He saw a young, rather raw cheek-boned man with brown, inquisitive eyes, lounging against the pillar of the building, a bit tired looking but with that unmistakable excitement in his hands and the way he shuffled through documents. The lawyer was to have his success at their failure. And the morose thoughts seemed to reach from Athrun to the young man, for he looked up, or more plausibly, aware of the approaching footsteps, and bowed low to Athrun, who merely nodded.

"Ms. Atha's waiting inside." Nells said apologetically, his eyes bright and whimsical in his thin, not unattractive face. Athrun took a long, hard look at him, like a hawk sizing its prey up, and he knew then, that she had chosen him because he wasn't callous like most of them, he wouldn't rejoice at the opportunity of having clients like them, he would be fair and do his job and no more than that.

"Thank you," Athrun said in spite of his reservations, and he watched Nells relax and followed the lead the lawyer took as he showed Athrun the way into the firm's office. Cagalli would be waiting there. Perhaps, he thought dully, she would look triumphantly at him, and hold out her hand where no ring was sitting around her finger, and he'd know for sure. Or perhaps she'd have a dulled pain in her eyes like his, maybe wearing black today.

He was entirely wrong, because she was wearing a simple white blouse and olive skirt, and she looked simple and unassumingly care-free until he looked at her eyes and saw that they were as filled as the ornamental glass bowls he'd seen somewhere before; clear and gleaming but empty inside.

"Athrun." She stood up to acknowledge his presence, and he bit back everything at the tip of his tongue and said a bit stiffly, "Cagalli."

It was ridiculous. When they'd called each other by the name barely days ago, those words had been gifts for their mouths, a sort of release, no matter how their names were articulated with the urgent cries of tremulous pleasure or the soft sighs they shook their centres after. And now those names were reduced to wood shavings in their mouths.

They simultaneously sat down while Nells unlocked a briefcase and revealed the papers Athrun had lost because of Cagalli. He looked hard at her but her eyes were somewhere else, and the papers, no matter what they did, no matter how well he'd locked them away and ignored their existence, had reappeared between them, unsigned. 'They'll soon be,' Athrun thought numbly.

"You've looked through these already," Nells said guiltily, but these were the emotions Athrun did not want to find from this person, "And you'll sign them today, as you've agreed."

Lies. "Yes." 

He reached for the finely-polished shaft of the gleaming pen, not noticing how cold his giners were, but then Cagalli jerked up and said softly, "Wait." 

His heart skipped a beat, but she was shaking her head slowly and saying, "The witness isn't here yet."

As if to echo her thoughts, the doors were pulled open as a man was guided in by a colleague of Nells' who ogled at his friend's clients. But instead of a tanned, weathered and burly guardian, Athrun found himself staring into his own eyes, transfigured into a rather empty, cold face. Goebbels.

He was rendered speechless then, but sheer dislike for the assistant coursed through him then and prevented any other emotion save numbness from appearing in his features. Goebbels looked at him and swiftly pulled a chair to Cagalli's side, and sat down confidently as if he owned the world, as if he owned her.

Anger whipped through him, and he punished the paper with a strike of the pen, like a lash of wind against the delicate mesh of fibres that were no longer snow-white but pitch darkness that formed his signature. He looked up at Cagalli, she wasn't even signing the papers, she must have already had done so and those must have been in the possession of Nells long before she had taken these from him and forced a response from him.

Goebbels said nothing, not registering triumph or eager disdain on his face that Athrun had half-suspected. And he loathed the man even more for not showing any sign of weakness. He watched as Goebbels placed a hand on Cagalli's small shoulders and steered her from where she sat. The fates were mocking him.

She gazed woodenly at him, but not enough for the sorrow to be filtered from the gold-flecked amber he had lost himself in so many countless of times, but Athrun was too dazed to see anything, or anyone. A dreadful energy was coursing through his vessels, poisoning his heart, and he saw her stand up alongside Goebbels and said softly, "Goodbye, Athrun." 

He had scarcely a chance to say anything before she was whisked away.


	35. Chapter 35

Disclaimer: I own nothing of GS/GSD. R&R please.

* * *

Chapter 35

The curtains at the window were drawn tightly and quite uncompromisingly. Cagalli herself had ordered it that way, afraid of darkness, no, not afraid, afraid of the memory of how the night had transformed her into a moth, drawn to an impossible flame, willingly consumed by his heat, destroyed by the ecstasy the flame had ignited into her.

And he had looked sapped of life when she'd seen him as he had done what she had asked him to do. When he put down the pen, revealing his signature on the papers, she wanted to take everything back, tell him that she didn't even know why, the more she thought about it, why it had to come to this. Except that the pain then reminded her of the pain she'd experienced with him, and that the fear of experiencing that pain again was driving her insane.

Kisaka had asked first, quite anxiously, how the conferences had gone, and she had smiled insincerely and nodded her answer. And he had grinned, quite ignorantly, and inquired how Athrun was, and she had recalled then, his half-smile his strong forearms pressing her body to his, dewed with their combined desire, his insatiable want and Cagalli had nodded fairly evenly, conveying only a little of her thoughts. And Kisaka, somehow disturbed by her vagueness and knowing that something was bothering her, had inquired how she had spent time with Athrun. She had blushed, and Kisaka stuttered something and turned a brilliant shade of magenta, and had clumsily tried to recover by asking, "How are both of you?"

She had looked at him, bit her lower lip and said in a low, almost inaudible voice, "We're getting a divorce."

He had protested violently after his initial shock, but she had made him sit down, and explained, with more control and calm than she had thought possible, how they'd simply fallen out of love and had moved on with their own lives. The half-truth and some blatant lies did not strike her as being deceitful; rather, Cagalli could not bear to tell him how she'd made the first mistake by committing herself to someone when she had already been long married to her country. And she could not bear to tell him how she'd lost their child, allowed her body to betray his child and kept them apart. Now, he accepted it better, but from time to time, had thrown her such pleading looks that she had requested for him to say nothing and to keep away from her. He had complied, such a faithful man he was.

Her assistant was reading certain events for the day. Quite contrary to the past characteristics had displayed before, Goebbels said nothing about her careless appearance or her brusqueness as she dealt with Kisaka. He had suddenly lost his silent disdain for her since some time ago, that she hadn't bothered noting when, but for a while, she had been lost without his guidance and him to lead her, but somehow, then in Berlin, Athrun had reappeared in her life and had taken her hand once more.

She studied her assistant. Was she so weak then that she had welcomed Athrun in leading her once Goebbels had suddenly, for no reason, ceased to enforce his ideals onto her?

It struck her now, that Athrun hadn't taken charge. He'd merely held her hand, quietly, unobtrusively in his way that she'd somehow trusted instinctively as he stripped her of the walls she'd been encouraged to build around her work to surround just her and nobody else, allowed her to see the world as she had once seen. And no matter what, Cagalli thought, seeing Goebbel's eyes and thinking of how much they looked like Athrun's, she'd have Athrun to thank for that.

"You look pale," the assistant had stated dryly. He had a sense of humor that very few people understood, but Cagalli was fortunately one of those who did. Not knowing where she found the strength to draw from, or how she could even do it, she flashed a smile at him and watched him smile softly back at her. A common understanding had been present, as if it'd had existed from the time she'd stepped into this office, once she'd returned back from Berlin. Perhaps her defiance when he'd suggested certain things had marked a new respect for her. It was like whipping a child, Cagalli considered, for being bad. If you didn't, the child pushed further, ignoring the attempts at appeasement. Whip him though, and he'd have dated a new respect there and then. Perhaps Goebbels was like that.

"I don't know why," Cagalli had answered vaguely, taking the stack he was dutifully handing over.

"You'll have to bear with me," Goebbels had said unencouragingly, but she smiled, understanding how his prickly character was amusing, "Because I will recite your schedule now."

"No," Cagalli had said promptly, "I've changed it. Tomorrow, I will only meet my lawyer."

He raised an eyebrow at her, his arms neatly pressed by his side. "Kisaka informed me of this. He declined to reveal the reason."

"I-,"

"Would you like a cup of tea?" Goebbels interrupted, seeing her wan expression, and she smiled gratefully, understanding his effort to help her avoid the awkwardness. But suddenly, she thought of Athrun's green eyes, how betrayed they'd look when she saw them, and then, a wave of desperation came awash her, and she thought of how pained Kisaka and Rainie would be. She looked at Goebbels, and rashly asked, "I'm filing for a divorce."

He blinked once, and she held her breath. But a second later, the slight shock in his eyes dissolved, and he said evenly, as if she'd said something easily acceptable, "I understand."

She bit back the prickling at the back of her eyes, aware that her nose was reddening slightly. "Will you come with me, tomorrow?"

"As you wish."

His eyes were regretful, he had forgotten to detach himself, put a little coldness to his tone. All there was now was obedience, some pained understanding and the natural instinct to comply with the request in her miserable state.

"Thank you." She had managed.

He had instantly crossed over and hugged her, opening himself to her, but she did not cry or allow herself to be weak in any other's arms, she had been weak in Athrun's arms one too many times to allow anything of that sort. But she awkwardly patted his arm and he withdrew, not smiling but with tenderness in his face that resealed the tentative tolerance and slight friendship they'd had for some time in the office.

And she'd ended up relying on Goebbels, the man with Athrun's eyes, to steady her broken spirit these days, sometimes she found she read the same sentence for the third time, and he'd step in and mechanically resolve it himself. He never did it with affection or tenderness that she could detect, because it wasn't outward for it to be seen in any case. But she understood that he wouldn't have bothered if he hadn't cared in the first place, ignoring the fact that Goebbels was an incorrigible workaholic, he admitted himself to be even.

"You know," He had said abruptly at one point, "Athrun Zala disapproves of me."

She had stared at her assistant, astonished at what he was saying, because Athrun had never once expressed dislike of him or even really acknowledged that they knew each other, even when her assistant called up at home sometimes to brief her on the preparations for certain upcoming tasks. Athrun might not have even known of his existence, save for the recent face-to-face meeting

"Impossible," Cagalli had said wanly, "You both haven't quite met before."

He had raised an eyebrow at her. And she shrugged uneasily, not really understanding what had happened. "I can't bear to-,"

Her fingers had unconsciously flown to a sliver of neck concealed by strands of gold, but she suspected Goebbels would guess what lay there.

Those had faded over the one-and-a-half weeks since then. But she bore the feeling of his warm lips pressing into her flushed flesh when she slept at night, when there were no people to distract her or files to pour through. She could not regret; it was even more difficult than letting go of all that she had lived for four years. Too difficult.

This morning though, a challenge was trying to get out of bed. And as Cagalli stumbled to the toilet, nausea rose and she was brought to her knees, her head lowered in front of the cold, sterilized white bowl, the remnants of her undigested dinner suddenly vulgar and sunken in the once clear water. Her forehead was wet and her hair matted with sweat.

Fear tugged at her. She didn't need this sign to know, she had suspected, but this-

She dialed for Rainie. "I need to get to a clinic."

"What's the matter? Are you ill? Can I help in any other way?" A loud anxious voice made her wince. Today, her temples weren't up to task.

"No, I-," Her voice, she found to be cracking, and horrified, she spoke quickly and wanly, "I think I'll be fine."

An hour later, she was sitting in the doctor's room, slightly irritated at being forced here. She looked around, feeling uncomfortable at the white walls and inscrutable frontier that reminded her of the hospital wards. The doctor made some checks here and there, and he brought her through procedures she could scarcely think about when she was so lost in her own thoughts. Cagalli was only jolted awake when the doctor hurried out of an adjoining room and waved a test in front of her. Her throat went dry.

"Congratulations!"

She stared at the doctor blindly, feeling the urge to either scream or cry, or perhaps both.

"The chairman will be so happy! Twins! Just like your brother, the Commander and of course, you but then Mediator Clyne-"

Her face was in her hands in a single, swift motion, and Cagalli's eyes, she found to her dismay were welling, and angry with her lack of control, she cursed.

The doctor, an elderly little man who looked robbed of his vital juices, irony being that he was a doctor, nearly jumped out of his crinkled old skin. His eyes widened behind the thick glasses as he witnessed the leader of his country lose her cool.

"Sorry? I thought I heard-"

And Cagalli found that she could bear no more, and forced a smile at the doctor, a dazzling, pained one. She gathered her things with careless, rushed sweeps and tore out, her cheeks dripping suddenly. And then sobs tore from her body in huge, gaping gasps and she was terrified that she would black out. But she didn't, and then when she had dried her tears and regained control over herself, she sat at a bench, not watching the patients pass by here and there, go into the consultation rooms and then leave for their homes, but thinking hard.

When she was finally ready, she picked up her cell and called for the car.

In the next few days, Cagalli moved with more conviction than she ever had. The morning sickness was a plague but she endured it with a willful vitality that surprised her. She was somehow aware that Goebbels was watching her critically, bringing her coffee that she gulped down and then refused.

"Decaffeinated?" She asked with some irrational moodiness. He looked at her and nodded simply. Angered, she demanded, "What's your problem?"

"I'm not an idiot," He replied gently, surprising her, "I passed by the restroom and heard your voice."

Cursing and gasping as she threw up. She looked skeptically at him, getting over her shock, and then Cagalli sighed, looking at her hands, gripping the cup handle. "I didn't mean to be found out."

"Not an issue," Goebbels said unsympathetically, "There wasn't anyone else."

She glared at him, feeling the urge to hit him. He was an expert at getting her riled up, and these days, it was becoming easier to snap.

"I'm finished with this," Cagalli said tensely, shoving some papers forward, "I'm going back."

Their eyes traveled across the wide wooden desk that separated them to the stack of white folders. She crossed her arms defiantly, as if daring him to disagree with her or go as far as to object to what she had said.

"Wait,' Goebbels calmly, "What are you going to do?"

"Nothing that concerns you," Cagalli bit automatically. He made no indication that he had heard her, but inclined his head slightly and pulled a chair, sitting down with an ease that reminded her of Athrun. She looked away angrily.

"I've served you for six years, and I left the Seiran House to come here, even after it collapsed and I could have chosen another profession quite easily," Goebbels said lightly, as if he were remarking about something light-hearted and as simple as the weather. But Cagalli knew there was danger somewhere now, and she flinched. "Didn't you know why?"

"No," Cagalli said, although she was afraid she had some suspicion of the reason.

"I wouldn't fault you," Goebbels agreed objectively, "I'm not likely to trade a career over a one-sided desire, romance, and whatever you want to call it."

Silence, it was a terrible tension filled shock on her part. Athrun had told her she was naive with men, had he been so correct, had he known her that well?

"Let's see now," He said easily, "The divorce papers were signed a week or so before today, and considering that you've been living apart for a year and more, you can use that as time for separation for the divorce to be confirmed, that leaves," His elegant hand ticked off fingers from the other hand, "About a month."

She flinched, wondering how he could assume so simply that the time she'd been living alone was equivalent to the actual separation. Had the sham been so poorly made or had he been as perceptive as this without saying a single word to anyone? And the thought chilled her, because knowledge was power for him.

"I don't expect anything," He continued gravely, his eyes flickering to her face, "The feeling waned over time anyway, surprisingly not once you were given to another, although it isn't inaccurate to say I was desolate for a time right after you married him. I did not approve of your marriage, but I'm not Kisaka, I'm your assistant."

"And even if Kisaka had disapproved, I would have married Athrun Zala then!" the words flew out before she could lock them back with her teeth. Her eyes were snapping, crackling amber pieces.

Goebbels shrugged. "I thought so."

"Y-you don't have a right to say this!"

"No," He said thoughtfully, observing her like someone who knew he had complete power over her, "But I can safely say that I won't allow you to fault the life in you for your failure and his. Innocence is something precious isn't it?"

"Something you never had," Cagalli replied bitterly, "What do you want to say? And what is it you want, exactly?"

He smiled a bit ruefully. "I thought you'd never ask."

She sat and listened to him speak, sat and listened with mounting grief and wondered why it was turning out like this. Wondered if she was too weak to live her life without anyone except herself and the country she'd already committed herself to.

"Alright," Cagalli said finally, "And Goebbels-,"

He looked at her, no longer speaking, his eyes held a wounded expression she might have nearly missed because of the apathetic nature he carried with him as a wall. Had he been like that for his whole life? She wondered about this, and wondered why she was wondering about him at all. She would never be able to think of him of anything more than a friend at best and an assistant at worst.

"Thank you," She said simply, extending her hand forward the way she was required to do after a business transaction of sorts. He raised his eyebrows but took it all the same, and an unspoken understanding passed between them at the point of contact.

They were both clinging on to fragments of the dream they couldn't bear to let go of. Cagalli wanted to do as he had requested, because she didn't want to lose the last thing she had left of Athrun, no matter how painful it would be, in the future, to look at the life that had taken root inside her. And Goebbels wanted her to do as he said, because he knew that he could do something for her and wanted to. It was as simple, as basic as that.

"I'll speak to Kira." She promised.

He nodded and exited as quietly as he had entered.

That day, when she spoke to Lacus, she found that a new determination had entered her body, the kind of fire she had once used as a fuel, a fire she had lost since a certain point and didn't know when and why. And that fire was called purpose.

"Why didn't you tell us that you were both facing difficulties?"

"I-I couldn't."

There was a disappointed silence on Lacus' end. And Cagalli hung her head, even though there wasn't anybody to see it. Betrayal was something Cagalli hated, and she was guilty of it now. She briefly wondered if Lacus would be more upset than what she'd been prepared for. Thankfully, this was not the case.

"And you said you've filed for separation? Isn't it a bit rash? Put the case that a couple leaves each other in a different place, country, whatever, isn't it still possible to remain so?"

Her sweet voice was slightly subdued, and Cagalli bit back a sigh. She would not, could not, say anything about the child she'd lost, the little hope that had been lost. And she knew even then, that the wound stemmed deeper than that.

"It was a mistake, Lacus," She said, trying to keep her voice from cracking, "I made a mistake by even allowing myself to have another commitment from the legacy my father died for. Athrun thought I would be fine, I thought I'd be too, but what we had- it was more than I expected."  
Lacus sighed. "I understand."

Her grip became firmer as Cagalli was forcefully reminded of the pictures she'd secretly saw of Siegel Clyne, drenched and choking in his own blood during the assassination. Lacus must have gone through equal hell, the hell that was uniform for all those who had lost someone as cruelly as that. No wonder Lacus still fought on for PLANT. She was gifted at politics, she was articulate and charismatic in her simplicity, but Cagalli knew she wanted nothing more than to be by Kira's side.

"But, Cagalli, isn't there any way-?"

"No," Cagalli interrupted, vexed, "There isn't."

"But then, what'll you do about the twins?" Lacus asked, obviously upset. "Athrun would fight as many wars as you deemed necessary to claim them, you know that as well as I do!"

Her voice was clouded with worry and quavering slightly in her frustration at being so far away from her friend. Kira was walking towards her now, and there was a question in his eyes. She signaled for him to remain quiet, and he nodded simply.

"I can protect them," Cagalli answered fiercely. "I don't want Athrun to be hindered by anything. He's going to go further in his life; I know that at very least. They'll take my assistant's name in case Athrun sees them and tries to come for them. And that'll be enough for Athrun to lose hope and live the way he did before he met me."

Lacus was silent now; they understood what she was doing. The name of another man on Athrun's children was a ruse, and if it worked, it would seal off everything as efficiently as the papers would with the final signature, but-

"But Cagalli," Lacus said softly, "He'll never live the way he did before he loved you again."

"I'm sorry." Cagalli replied firmly, "But that's the best way out of this affair. I'll bring them up myself, Kisaka will take them in hand without a doubt, and the world can question their birthright, but as long as I'm alive, they'll be loved for both of us."

She could not bring herself to say his name anymore. And Lacus put down the phone gently, her eyes troubled, but she knew Cagalli was right. That was the only way now, if Cagalli wanted to be apart from him.

Kira understood, although he was as troubled as Lacus soon after. He spoke to Cagalli, and it was a long conversation, although Lacus did not need to hear what was being said to understand what would happen. The die would soon be cast.

She held Leon in her arms, stroking his messily soft hair from his rosy cheeks. The child grinned toothily, Kira's smile, really, and began to tell her something amusing, but she found that she was only half-listening, smiling and nodding at whatever he asked. And the boy was confused because she had never agreed to let him stay up so late before.

Kira spoke to her a while later, when Leon, bored with a mother who was not paying full attention to what he said, began to play with the brightly-colored haros instead, and Lacus listened wearily now.

"I understand," She said finally after he had finished telling her what he would do, "But isn't there anything we can do? You're her brother!"  
"And Athrun's my best friend," Kira reminded her gravely, "But this is what they've decided, and I want only the best for her."

"Is this then?" Lacus said, a bit louder than she'd intended, "The way they're leaving each other like this?"

"If they've fallen out of love the way she implies she has," Kira cut in, equally frustrated, "I can only take her word for it. I'm going to see Athrun to confirm this."

His eyes darkened.

Cagalli's rational words, cold and determined, had upset him. Athrun, he found, was exactly alike and as equally upsetting. And Kira was no fool, he was well aware that Meyrin was living in the vicinity. He spoke to her and left soon after. She waved goodbye to him with a weak smile and an effort to appear calm.

He understood the girl's worry. He wasn't a stranger to it either.

"Athrun!" He knocked. No response. But he got in anyway, Meyrin's key, the one she'd gotten from the landlady was useful in that respect.

The apartment was not impeccably arranged like what Kira had half-expected, it was in a state of semi-untidiness, like its owner didn't even bother allowing it to fully become a mess and didn't bother cleaning up half of what a mess was supposed to be. And that emptiness was disconcerting. The dinner, half-eaten was full proof of that as Athrun looked up, startled from his work, and his glare was baleful as it directed towards Kira.

He crossed over the room, shutting the door after him. "Why didn't you open?"

"You came," Athrun said evenly and a bit grim, giving no indication of anything that resembled emotion at all, although his eyes said, 'You came in anyway, didn't you?'

He watched warily as Kira pulled a chair out and sat down, mirroring his best friend. The expression on Kira's face revealed nothing, although the eyes were slightly pained in their amethyst depths.

Just as if he was remarking about some gossip that was flying around town, Athrun stared and commented, "She told you already then?"

His friend observed him. Athrun Zala couldn't have looked more impeccable today, clean-shaven and appearing none the worse for wear. But his eyes were haunted. And Kira felt ire rising in his body, but kept his temper in check.

"Cagalli did, and I came to tell you that-,"

"Divorce," Athrun's voice was steady, "Ongoing-,"

He never managed to finish his sentence. The bitter laugh rang out, shaking Athrun's frame.

"She wants out; I've given her that already. There's nothing you and Lacus can do."

"You know," Kira replied calmly, ignoring the interruption, "I came here to tell you that Cagalli is expecting."

He watched the haunted eyes look up at him in one dazzling snap, and then saw that they were clearing, becoming less cloudy and something was brightening in that wasted, handsome face. The elbows were no longer slumped on his knees; his back was straightening, tensed with excitement and eagerness, and Athrun's voice, no longer cold and polite, pinched even, and was shaking with joy. "That's wonderful, I don't know what to say, this-,"

"Stop it," Kira interrupted, motioning for him to sit down again, "Don't get your hopes up, nobody said it was y-."

Athrun did not fully hear the last word, he heard only the roar of a distant waterfall in the abyss of his mind, and still, he comprehended the implications immediately. The pain that had erupted on Athrun's face had been replaced with shock, but then it was coloring into a soul-wrenching agony and then fury, dark and emerald, and then pain again.

He wondered how she'd done it. How she'd made someone like Athrun learn how to be as rash and impassioned as her when it came to the people they cared for, how she'd taught him to forget the barriers he'd placed around himself even as a child, how she had taught Athrun to love her, and love the fire, long for it to play with even though it burnt both of them, and yet-

The emphasis had been on the last word. Athrun's eyes grew wide, horror and fear in his lips, and Kira looked at him, no, looked through him, distant and cruelly detached, and then his eyes narrowed as he spat. "Goebbels."

"I don't know," Kira said calmly, although he was in inner turmoil and doubt at what he had promised was gnawing inside, "Cagalli thinks its Benjamin Goebbel's child, and from what I've seen, that's possible, and besides, you two have been apart for nearly a year. It's impossible for the child to be yours if you have been ap-"

And the answer Athrun gave in reply to that was not quite an answer, for he spoke more to himself than Kira. "I brought her here a week ago."

Nothing in his voice resembled emotion anymore. He had spent himself in that one myriad of humanity. A machine. That was what he resembled now. But then something cracked in his face and he hid it in his hands.

"Whatever the case is," Kira said eventually, early losing the will to carry out what he'd promised, "The divorce takes full effect in a month's time, and Cagalli, whether she keeps the child or not, and whether it is yours or not, will take her name if Goebbels' refuses to."

"I'll take the child as mine even if it isn't!"

"That isn't for you to decide any longer," Kira returned calmly, and the rest wasn't anything Athrun heard properly, nothing except for the last words before Kira moved out from where he'd come from, but not before he'd returned the spare key on the couch, as if wiping his hands off everything. Athrun wanted to, but then he didn't want to as well.

What had Kira said? That Cagalli was a proud one. He understood that. He understood that very well.

And he had cried in his life, not many times, because Athrun Zala was not brought up to cry, his father had trained him well. When his mother had been killed like a single fly in a swift instant, he'd cried for a lost life, and a part of him that had died, when he thought he'd killed Kira, he had cried, for an innocent soul that had been forced to do evil, and he hadn't cried any more than that, really, if he bothered to count. He hadn't cried for her before, although she had spent nearly most of her tears on him. Now, he spent his tears for a lost love and for her.

His child, he knew that was what she carried now. He knew, although he had no way of proving anything. But instinct, something Athrun had denied, because instinct was infallible and unhelpful to a soldier, was mostly accurate in his case. And it was instinct now that told him that she was hiding the most important secret away from him.

By the time the sun had sank and the orange skies had become stained with black ink, he had gotten up from where he'd been left for a long time, and plans were formulating in his head. He had told her this once that Athrun Zala wasn't a person who gave up.

Hope lay in what Cagalli carried. His child.


	36. Chapter 36

Disclaimer: I own nothing of GS/GSD. R&R please.

This is probably the last chapter. I don't know if the last one should be put before the epilogue. Oh well. Thank you to all who have supported this, I would have never done this without all the support!

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Chapter 36 

When had he become like this?

He looked at the park around him. Deserted. He didn't mind that. But somehow he did as well. The loneliness was disconcerting. That child was either his or not. Did it matter?

No. He wanted her anyway.He shouldn't have, he ought not to have. But it didn't change the fact that he did.

Truth be told, he had always.

Sunlight, unfiltered by curtains, touched Athrun's cheeks for the first time in weeks, and the wind whistled its questions, the same ones that went through his mind.

"Oh." He said to nobody in particular.

Kira had seen the wild, uncontained side of Athrun Zala before, and that had been during the war. After the war, it had been, in the most ironic sense, Cagalli, Kira's twin, who had witnessed it. In fact, she had drawn the side out of him without even wittingly doing so. Athrun Zala was still a mild-mannered, quietly firm and well-spoken man. There was only a slight touch of firmness mixed in his fine jaw that hinted of a slightly rash side to his will. He had been trained to be a soldier. And a soldier he had been for most of his life, and as a soldier, he had obeyed only the superiors. And he had watched as Cagalli had been led away by a man they both did not respect and had no love lost for. The only thing he had done as she protested was watch as Yuna Roma Seiran led her away. He had regretted it, even after Kira had taken her away with the Freedom, he had regretted it. No wonder his posessiveness now. Because Athrun Zala did not make the same mistake twice.

The gears of time and momentum would move fast now, as did he. Momentum was the pendulum of decision and he gained this quickly.

And now she carried a child. Possibly his, or possible not. But she was his.

Had it been a resurging of hope? Athrun was not sure, but the little grain that lay in the beach of desolateness and broken dreams was surely a chance that he would hold a child with either her golden, liquid-like eyes or his emerald ones. He wanted her, and he wanted the child she carried. Had Kira suspected? Perhaps.

But perhaps his best friend had been counting on him to stay rooted in his grief and in the road of emptiness and the bitter taste of regret. If so, he should have never said a single word, breathed a syllable about a child the only person Athrun had truly loved carried even as they spoke. Had Kira counted too much on the sting of the betrayal? Perhaps. But then he should have never underestimated the healing forgiveness in the chance a person sought for his own.

He paused and stood in the middle of the gravel path he had been striding down in order to think properly. If he was correct, Cagalli would be moving as swiftly as him. His instincts never failed him.

Later, Meyrin was busying herself with papers he had carelessly strewn around, but she did not chide him for rare show of poor housekeeping. Her brow was troubled but she had a vitality that was a helpless mirror of the energy that surged silently in his veins as he watched.

She spoke loudly, pretending to be a little deaf to his calm silence. "Are you going back to work?"

"Soon." He answered politely, "I hardly think I like being idle."

She grimaced and half-smiled, not trusting his impeccable composure and the veneer she had never reached through to find his soul before. The thought of it was like a slap to her, but she ignored it, busying herself with nothing. "Are you angry with me?"

"Why?" He asked in surprise. She glanced at Athrun, saw his face clearly in the light and quickly looked away. His eyes had widened with inquiry, and with a little difficulty, she muttered, "I gave Kira the spare key you trusted me with."

He made no indication that he had sensed her discomfort or guilt. "It matters little; I have exchanged something more valuable for the one key you held onto."

It was her turn to look surprised now, and a strange sense of foreboding filled her even as he smiled absently and with some warmth that seemed delirious for a split-second before the light of his smile vanished, but not the purpose in his eyes. Meyrin excused herself quietly and he said goodbye with little emotion. She would never grasp who Athrun Zala really was.

But somehow, it did not hurt as much as it might have before. She smiled and waved, wondering if the world had many fools like her and him.

An hour later, by the time Meyrin had left, excusing herself, Athrun Zala was strapped in a shuttle seat. The owners of the firms would be ready to meet him as soon as he stepped down. And the thought of that made a grim smile appear on his determined face.

She visited the Yamato residence the next day, and Meyrin could scarcely begin to imagine the Mediator Clyne the minute she laid eyes on Lacus, no longer unruffled and coldly elegant, but pink-cheeked and laughing wildly as Leon chased her doggedly and Kira watched from afar with a glowing pride painted on his face. When they finally all settled down again, Meyrin drank her tea and spoke while Kira watched them quietly, knowing what Lacus would not say.

"You are very happy aren't you?" Meyrin said pleasantly.

"Am I?" Lacus smiled.

The air around them was idyllic, filled with Lacus' semi-ennui. Had Kira realised this? Most probably, for she had that little contented, listless smile on her face as she stroked Leon's hair from his sweaty, rosy cherubic image of a face. She gave no indication to understanding or bothering to read a deeper meaning into Meyrin's words.

And Meyrin looked embarrassed at what she was saying even when a thousand burning questions lay at the tip of her tongue. Lacus' eyes were knowing. So Meyrin cleared her throat and asked, "You must be, you're the wife of the Commander, Leon's a perfect child, he-,"

"Yes," Lacus said sweetly and finally, if not a little irreverently as she glanced around, distracted by the mechanical menagerie calling loudly around their child who was rolling happily in the grass as Kira watched indulgently, "How perfectly true."

Meyrin's questions melted away, jammed on a invisible wall of an unseen barrier. The bees hummed around the fresh honey flowers and perfumed the air with lethargic perfume. How could she probe? Kira looked over to where they were, understanding that they were conversing the way women did when their lives seemed complete, too complete for them to wonder about anything that could be had after that moment.

The rest of the afternoon was spent this way. Filled with easy happiness and none of the answers that Meyrin had come for. And she left, understanding that she would not be able to understand the man she had loved with her entire self, not would she understand what he had now requested of her. Nevertheless, for old time's sake, Meyrin Hawke would do what he had asked of her.

A car pulled up outside the residence and Shiho Hahenfuss stood before her, dressed in a man's tunic but with her beautiful woman's figure and the sort of easy grace that Meyrin now admired. She stood still, watching the taller woman stride forward to meet her. A call interrupted them.

Irritably, Yzak beckoned, reminding both of them to hurry forward.

High above, Kira watched from a window as the car sped off into the distance where the road joined with the sky, carrying the three of them. Below, Lacus would be preparing Leon for a walk. He would join them shortly.

Athrun's mind was in turmoil. Strangely, a smile somehow crept itself upon his face when he imagined, against his immediate thoughts, a pair of tiny, white hands, perhaps her golden-flecked eyes or even emerald. His child, a gift they'd created. A father-

It did not escape the possibility of his calculations, that she might have been carrying another man's child; jealousy and hurt were powerful even in his utmost rationality. But something in Athrun knew the truth lay somewhere, and even if he could not grasp it all fully in his two hands, it did not disprove the existence of what he wanted, what he chose to believe in even then. Cagalli, he found he could not quite trust, not after so deep and so recent a betrayal, but the child he wanted, the child he would fight for.

The directors of the first clinic looked wary. Always a good starting point, fear and intimidation was.

"Let me introduce myself," Athun said calmly, watching them with alert eyes like emerald knives. "I'm Athrun Zala, ZAFT's Commander-status, First Class, PLANT's Defence Council's Chairman of ETERNITY."

"We know," One man said doubtfully, "That's why we're all here today."

He smiled an emotionless smile. "Good. I thank you all for making the effort to meet me."

"Not much effort," Another spoke up with his eyes not quite meeting Athrun's direct gaze, "When there is talk of you buying out the entire rights of our research and services."

"I'm glad my representative could contact you."

"Er- We've discussed it, and we have met up today to tell you of our decision. Another person, who we cannot disclose his identity, has somehow offered the same conditions as you have."

But he didn't wait to hear it. Athrun gave a singular, brief nod. "You misunderstand me. I was merely expressing an interest in your work. However, I understand you are the sole research and genetic modulation center in ORB?"

"Yes," the man said reluctantly, turning to his partner, both of them still in their laboratory coats. Clearly, they had rushed over to meet him. "And our clientele has sworn us to confidentiality."

"Remarkable that you mention it," Athrun said curtly, "I never even got around to asking if my wife was one of your clientele."

He calmly watched both the men trundle into a terrible panic.

Barely half an hour later, he left the building with his briefcase and the coat he hadn't even bothered taking off to meet the directors. He held the papers for buying them out in his hands, and the sole proprietorship of the ORB Genetic Modulation Centre. Yzak would take care of the rest. In the meantime, he would wait for the moment to strike. He was not prepared to lose.

In her office, Cagalli had been writing a note to a minister, reminding him of the changes in his proposal he would have to re-look through. And she was suddenly aware of Kisaka standing before her. For a minute, she had imagined it was Goebbles, but she had sent him to meet the ambassadors of EA America, unable to look at him without flinching. It wasn't that she despised him, but he was proof of the terrible lengths she was prepared to go to just to restart her life once more.

"What is it, Kisaka?" She asked tiredly.

Kisaka's voice was gravelly, like it was trying to sound normal, but failing somehow. "There's and urgent call. The directors of a firm they don't want to disclose request your attention immediately. I was tempted to put them off if they did not reveal their identities and the nature of their business, but they mentioned that it was a matter of great urgency. They are waiting on the line, and I wasn't aware if you had any business with them. What is your decision?"

She stared at him with a mounting sense of foreboding. "Put them on the line. And ensure nobody is listening. And if you will, leave me to speak to them."

His eyes shone with questions and slight hurt at being left out, but he complied nonetheless. And Cagalli ignored the pounding guilt in her heart and waited for a few terse seconds before snatching the line. The screen flickered and showed a frantic looking half of the directors she had spoken to a week before.

"Well, what is it?" She asked tensely, her fingers twined anxiously around the cord for a reason she could not guess. His next words made her fingers freeze, however.

"There's been an offer to buy us out. If we agree," the quaking director muttered, "Our records of the clientele will go with it."

Mute for a second, she did not speak. But when she had found her voice, Cagalli's tone was resolute. "Who made the offer?"

"We are sworn to secrecy," the director said uneasily, "Although this person does not come from ORB."

Athrun had found out. She gaped. How? Did he know that she had met with the directors and engaged their services with additional conditions that she would pay for them to keep silent if the paparazzi came knocking on their doors, providing them an incentive to disclose their clientele?

Upset, she questioned brusquely, "Do you accept competition amongst buyers for the shares?"

She watched with silent scorn as the greed gleamed in the man's eyes. "Why, yes, yes, of course we do. But we cannot disclose the identity of the buyer."

"It's fine," Cagalli said coldly, "I may know who he is."

She ignored the man's surprise and cut the line. But she was unable to continue, for her head was ringing with the voices she had heard from years ago, and her thoughts were hurried and interrupted. And a second call came. Nervous, she picked it up and watched with apprehension as the second director informed her of the competitor's second offer, even higher than hers. She hadn't wanted to buy over the foundation; she had only wanted maximum and air-tight confidentiality to protect the unborn children she carried. But now, she would have to bid to overthrow Athrun and acquire a company entirely.

She bit her lip. "I'm offering a hundred and twenty percent of the second offer he's made."

"Very well; I'll tell the person."

This time, she stood up and circled the room like a hawk. When the line rang, she snatched it up, breathlessly. But the offer had been even higher. And he had offered three times of what she had offered. She could afford no more. In desperation, she slammed the phone down and redialed another number. Athrun did not pick up the phone in his apartment. Perhaps he was somewhere else. Frustrated, Cagalli dialed for his cell.

Much to her astonishment, Meyrin answered instead of Athrun, sounding cheerful and sweet. "Hello!"

"Is that Meyrin? Where's Athrun?" Cagalli questioned, getting over the startled state she had moved into when she had encountered Meyrin even when she had dialed for Athrun's personal cell.

"Oh," Meyrin said shyly, very awkward, "We're at his apartment."

"Why didn't he answer then?" Cagalli demanded fiercely, impatient.

"Oh I- I've been meaning to thank you, Cagalli. I know it's difficult to make him forget, but I'm trying, I really am. And I don't know, but I, oh, how do I say this? He's asleep, he's been asleep for a while since- well, since. But I'm planning to wake him soon-,"

Sickened, Cagalli cut the line and turned to the wall, closing her eyes and placing a hand on her forehead. She had been wrong. It wasn't Athrun Zala who had been trying to acquire the firm's shares and its clientele. It simply couldn't have been Athrun, because he had been with Meyrin, in his apartment, doing God-knows-what, and now he was asleep, so soundly slumbering that she had had to pick up the line for him. It was somebody else. Someone could possibly have been interested in the firm and was trying to acquire it, by accident gaining her identity amongst all the other names, mostly Coordinator families. She had to find a way to stop that person, whoever he or she was.

Frantically, she dialed for the directors.

A row of rooms aside, the two men stared at each other, silent as they sat across the chairs in Kisaka's office.

Athrun had been waiting for a while since he had blithely passed all the security with a wave of his hand and a ready smile.

"Shall I let her know you're here?" The receptionist asked chirpily, admiring his physique and handsome face. He handed her some beautiful red roses she squealed over, but he causally mentioned that he would take them back to give to Cagalli soon, and her smile deflated. He was a beautiful man, the young woman observed, he had reputedly been made fun of in his younger days, being called even effeminate, but if there was any man worth knowing, it was Athrun Zala. They knew him; they still knew him as their leader's husband.

He looked at her with a half-smile and unintentionally lowered, beguiling green eyes that sent her heart aflutter. How many women had tried to hit on him? And did they entrance him as much as Cagalli?

"Don't worry," Athrun replied winsomely, and his smooth, mild voice made her smile with pleasure, "It'll be a surprise."

And he had waited in Kisaka's office, until the man had arrived, earning a shock out of the burly guardian. Kisaka had came into his office and turned around to see Athrun sitting politely in a chair. And so Athrun watched him look frantic and disturbed by the urgent call that Cagalli had taken after refusing to disclose the nature of the firm that had called, knowing exactly what had happened.

"What are you doing here?" Kisaka roared in shock. Athrun merely smiled a slightly amused smile that did not reach his eyes. He uncrossed his legs and stood up, saying, "You received a call, didn't you?"

"What is going on?" Kisaka demanded, losing some of his composure he had never been known for losing. But Cagalli's tensed state and this man's unfrazzled, confident demeanor, coupled with his sudden appearance was more than what a solid wall of bricks could take at that moment, "And how did you know about the call?"

"Did I say that I did?" Athrun mused, "Oh. Ignore that. She must be busy now."

Glaring, although he was more startled than upset, Kisaka placed himself heavily in the chair opposite Athrun's.

Both had loved the same person in different ways, but they'd loved her all the same. The room was fitted in masculine sepias, and for a minute, Athrun felt disconcerted. The walls were the color of Cagalli's eyes whenever he held her close, their bodies fitting and molding, melting into each other. But he had imagined it- there were not gold flecked amber eyes, darkening with stained brown glaring at him, daring him to defy his sanity and lose himself for her.

"Cagalli's not in a bad state," Kisaka said steadily, "Not at all, in fact. She's happier now, I think she's found a reason to move on. Stubborn she is, but it makes life easier to live for her. Do you understand? When you've been to all sorts of Godforsaken places and but never had a chance to have been herself even once and properly the minute her father died, of course there's only stubbornness and pride left. You blame her for that, but she's got nobody to blame. Her life is to lead and be in politics, just like my master. Stubbornness never harmed anyone in that genre of living. Naturally, she'd apply it to her own self. "

They understood what he meant. Cagalli was like a wheel, she'd had a life halted and hen it started, it wouldn't be stopped once it started in motion unless she'd meant it to be stopped. She had her pride, that she would fulfill her father's role with the sacrifice of her own childhood and her own dreams, whatever they'd been meant to be when she had so many opportunities to walk away from ORB, walk away from duties and do whatever she wanted. No wonder she had resisted him for so long, and no wonder then, that she had refused everything he had offered so far. And Athrun drew in a breath, so she wanted to move on with only that stubbornness and her sheer will to live for her country. Had they failed from the start, before cracks had even shown and the collapse had occurred?

"I understand," Athrun said with an ease that seemed natural, "But with another man?"

Kisaka looked stony, but said nothing. Then he massaged his temples in a rare sign of human weakness that was almost mortal for the tanned Heracles, and looked sharply at Athrun. "She doesn't want you to be present, because I 've seen, and I know as well as she does, that it will be too easy to start dreaming of another life outside her responsibilities when she's with you. With another however, perhaps less significant and less precious to her, the chance of that is lower. And in most mercenary sense, she will never have to let the child face the stigma of having no father. You know as well as I do that living alone is difficult. Will you begrudge her that?"

"No." Athrun admitted, even though pain was insidiously creeping into his hands and eyes. "But inside, I cannot agree."

"Neither can I," Kisaka said uneasily, as if he were afraid somebody would hear. "I will not ask why you kept this from me; I have little right to interfere. However," A moaning sigh of weariness and tender pain gushed through his words, seepage everywhere, "If Lord Uzumi were around, I can scarcely begin to imagine what Cagalli's state would be like in its difference. Granted, she has a stubborn streak in her, that was given a long time ago. But the circumstances are not mutually exclusive from who she is today."

"Impossible," Athrun interrupted, not a little rashly, "If her father were alive, she would have given herself completely."

'To me,' He added inside. But Kisaka understood, his intelligent brown eyes were looking at Athrun, and he half-smiled. "Then what?"

Silence.

"I understand, however," Kisaka said finally, drawing himself upwards, seeming to regain that lion-like strength that made him look taller than ever even while they sat, "I am not certain it is the lost love in your marriage, whether or not it is my right to comment upon something I have no say in, but I sense a deeper reasoning Cagalli uses."

Athrun nodded. "I was foolish to ignore her fears, ignoring those and hoping the years would fade and she would forget the burden her father's death had left for her. She couldn't forget, could she? Time wasn't on our side in the end."

"You speak nothing of time," Kisaka corrected roughly, "You both know nothing of time. You can convince her, if you try, to see what I have seen, that her life, her being, can be divided as you desire. Her guilt is heavy, you know as well as I do, and that child," A soft smile passed his lips, "Is a proud one."

Pride again. Did he not know enough?

"And therefore," Athrun said, speaking in a rush now, although he was very coherent, his words were rapid but not unclear, "Will you agree to assist me?"

Kisaka frowned. "My allegiance lies only with Cagalli, heir of my master." His fingers were locked in each other, strong but not harsh, "I abide by her wishes; I have given her advice she has refused. I play no more a part in this than a stranger. If she refuses to continue with her expectancy, or if she refuses you the birthright, then I will watch and comply with the subsequent orders. Do you understand?"

He wanted to hurl in his despair, but he kept his voice from shaking. "I'm the father of the child she carries."

Kisaka only cocked a cool brow at him.

"Do you wish to let her know that you came?" Kisaka finally asked, as Athrun stood, rigid with a bearing that spoke of his strength and inner conviction, "Is that your desire, Athrun?'

"You may tell her that I have come for her," Athrun said, not turning around, merely pausing like a frozen being at the semi-opened door, "And tell her that she cannot hide the truth from me. But then, by the time you tell her that, I may have already shown her that."

Kisaka's nod wasn't seen, for the door was already closed, and Athrun had disappeared along a familiar corridor that led to Cagalli's office.

'Oh my master,' Kisaka thought wearily, 'If only you could have seen what you did to her when you chose your country over your life and her childhood."

He had hoped, even though he was a jaded man, old and world-wearied, too battle-scarred a warrior to want of love or more than a just master, that the man who had only just stood before him, steady and strong but so tender to the child he had brought up with his master, would take Cagalli away and make her forget what Kisaka's master's death had meant.

Even if it was possible only for the shortest period of time, Kisaka had wanted Athrun Zala to remind the child that she had a right to be selfish. He had hoped that the child would be loved by someone she would give herself entirely to, even if it was just one hour of the day when the country's burdens were lifted off her small shoulders. He had hoped then, that she would love as deeply as Athrun had. Perhaps Cagalli had, perhaps, but like what she'd claimed, they'd fallen out of love. But Athrun's wounds lay in the depths of the forested eyes, and those proved otherwise, that he loved her with every fiber in his body, and that she had utterly ruined him.

Then had she fallen out of love? Perhaps, perhaps not. Cagalli's eyes were distant most of the time, but when he mentioned happier times, she would smile, a warm, a little wan smile, but life would re-enter her face. The child in her would soon cause her body to swell, and she would not be able to hide it any longer. Was that when Athrun would make the final attempt to regain all that had been lost?

He shook his head; it was not for him, Kisaka, to think about. He was a soldier, an advisor, and Cagalli had refused his advice. All the same, Kisaka found himself praying for the first time in years- that the child he had carried on his shoulders would regain her senses, and that the man he had grown to trust and respect would bring her from her chains that held her captive to the ground she walked on, fought to keep safe, would fight to keep safe to the last of her days.

Goebbels had left ORB for a few days to represent his country in a conference in America. Kisaka was not sure of his part in the matter, but he had observed carefully and found nothing in Cagalli's manner to suggest feeling or even affection in the slightest. And Kisaka was not unaware that the youth that had trained in the Seiran's ministry had watched the young Lord Seiran from a distance as he pestered Cagalli to comply to his requests. Kisaka saw much but commented very little.

It had hardly made him nervous that when the Seirans had been entirely eradicated, the House collapsed and defeated in a spectacular disgrace, that the youth, no, young man now, had entered the main House in leadership of ORB and in the next few years, worked his way up to the assistant position, answering only to Cagalli Yula Atha. These things did not quite worry Kisaka, for he had relied on Cagalli's innocence and Benjamin Goebbels' overwhelming ambition to obliviate any possibilities. Besides, he had somehow known that even after the Second War had ended, Cagalli sometimes looked at newspapers for a long time and there would be a slight rose under her cheeks as she glimpsed a picture or two of the newly-elected ETERNITY Chairman.

Now, Kisaka wondered if there was a threat at all. He would remain silent even in the midst of all the he did not understood, in the midst of all Cagalli refused to tell him about. Because Ledonir Kisaka trusted.

Cagalli was nearly losing her control, but somehow, her words were still firm and clipped, well-defined and without a trace of emotion except the ungodly determination that coursed through every syllable.

"To whoever who is willing to buy you out," Cagalli said steadily, "I offer thirty percent more than him."

A knock sounded on her door, and she paused, holding a hand up to the director to signal him to wait, and without turning back, she called, "I'll explain later, Kisaka!"

"No need," Athrun's voice said, sonorous over the crackle of the line and her breaths, "I guessed as much."

She instinctively whirled around, the director's face still frozen and immobile on the screen in the wait, the phone still sandwiched in between her shoulder and her cheek, and she turned in her seat, to face Athrun Zala. His eyes were boring through her, and she gaped at him, as frozen as the image on her screen. The director's voice was frantic, "Ms. Atha? Ms. Atha?"

And she watched as Athrun strode into the line of vision and observed the director's face go slack with shock. Calmly, he plucked the phone from her grasp, watching the image projected on the screen balefully, and said sharply, "The deal's off on this side. Now you can deal with the other buyer."

He put the phone down with a brisk click.

"What- What are you doing here?" Cagalli asked, shocked beyond her senses. For a minute, it had seemed impossible that he was standing here, but he was leaning over her, and the air was filled with his familiar scent of the spicy aftershave, and his smile was knowing. "I've been asked the same question twice today, within an hour. Uncanny."

He carelessly threw a bunch of red roses to her wide glass- framed desk, and a few petals were displaced. Those were ignored, even though they imitated brilliant splashes of blood and ruby silk on the clear glass surface. Athrun looked at her, smiling his half-smile. His eyes said nothing.

Angrily, she stood up, forcing him to take a step back and stand as upright as her rather than leaning over her shoulder. If it could be helped, she resisted contact of any kind, it was far too dangerous. And Cagalli's heart contained an iron-wrought drum, her eyes were wary pools of gold, mottled with distrust. She said nothing, pursed her lips hard, biting them, making them turn a luscious pink, before she spat, "You tricked me!"

She did not wait for him to reply, she marched as far away as she could and stood, backed like a wounded animal against a wall, and her cry was searing. "What did you do?"

"Nothing very difficult," Athrun replied gently, "I could not confirm if you were planning to hide the truth from me, nor could I even confirm the truth itself. I sent Meyrin to become the only way of contacting me. She has been waiting in my apartment for your call to induce you to keep on trying to acquire the firm."

"And the other buyer?"

Her voice was shaking.

"Yzak Joule." He answered simply. Her face crumbled and she crossed over to the room, slapping him hard, unable to bear the deceit he had used to find her out. But he did not flinch, welcomed the stinging mark without a single indication that he had taken it.

"It was the only way," Athrun said, as if in response to her panting self, pink with anger and frustration. "I did not know if you carried my child or not, and even if you were, I did not know if you were hiding that fact from me. Therefore, I realised the only way you could hide something as obvious once the child was born, was to modify the physical features. You would never consent to other tests, would you?"

She nodded blindly, unable to speak. And he continued softly. "And if you were truly carrying my child and you wanted to change that fact on the surface so I would not try to take the child away, you could not have sought for PLANT's genetic centers, because you would be found out easily in my stronghold. In ORB, the only centre would not be obligated to release information to a government which I did not come under. And it made sense that you chose it."

"And then," Athrun said steadily, "You would take Goebbel's name for the child and then remove him from the scene later with both your consensus, I suppose. Either that or you would leave the child's father's identity a secret. I had to know for sure. You would have succeeded, but you made a fatal flaw. You forgot that the Centre, the sole one in ORB, was ultimately a profit-making enterprise, which would then be bought over if offered a high enough price."

"I did," Cagalli said bitterly. "And what about it?"

"It was simple then," Athrun said, strangely mildly, as if he were recounting a light-hearted story, "For me to arrange that Yzak Joule offer money for buying over the rights to the Centre. And I knew you would suspect it was I. And naturally, because you are not a foolish woman, you checked, prepared to know if I was trying to buy over the rights as well. Did it cross your mind that even if you had successfully contacted me, I could still lie and you would have no way of knowing? I think not, because you would have trusted me. But you didn't count on Meyrin answering from my apartment, nor did you count on her lying and putting forward the impression that I was not the other buyer."

He paused, looking at her. "And that made you even more desperate to retain the confidentiality, because, as I suspected, a strange would be even less hesitant in selling your identity and mine over to whoever who wanted to pay for it, therefore endangering the child's future."

"Yes," Cagalli answered, dazed, "But also because I didn't want to implicate you."

It was his turn to fall silent, for he had not seen that. But so far, he had been correct. "And while Yzak, upon my request, competed with you with the directors as the middleman, I roughly gathered all I needed to confirm that you were indeed part of the clientele. And in prolonging the competition for proprietorship, I bought enough time to come here and find you engaged in what I had suspected you would be involved in. I wanted to see for myself. And I have seen."

"Yes," Cagalli repeated. "Are you satisfied?"

She was still reeling from the shock and the hurt of being fooled the way he had done. But her words, meant to provoke him into leaving, perhaps, she thought hopefully, storming out of her world, created no other effect other than the soft, wan smile he gave her. "No." Athrun replied, "Not yet. Sit down. Please."

She glared at him mistrustfully, even considered calling for the security. But her gaze fell on the roses he had put on her desk, and she realised he was had came to well-prepared for her to even begin to try and defeat. They would not believe her unless she did something drastic, and that would have been even more unbearable than this.

"Sit down, please, do as I ask," He repeated, and she heard a tender huskiness in his voice and distrustfully complied, although she placed herself as far away as her chair would allow. Cagalli's reflexes were entirely functioning, and she curled herself into the chair, protectively, her knees shielding her abdomen from his gaze, afraid that his eyes would take the truth and her chance of keeping what she had sworn to bring into the world and love for both of them.

He said nothing, only gazed at her with a silent, knowing expression that frustrated her because she found she did not understand it the way it seemed to read and comprehend her thoughts so easily. Her hands covered her soft body protectively as his eyes flickered over her.

"Not yours," Cagalli said defiantly, her lips full and trembling slightly, "There's nothing more to be said. Everything is ready; my name is the only one worthy. Nothing belongs to you."

He smiled softly. "You make a fine mother and the worst liar I've ever seen."

She colored rapidly, but it was an angry flush, and to her horror, she found herself resorting to childish temperaments. "Shut up. You've no part in this. Perhaps Kira didn't make it clear, but it's time we stopped shirking our responsibilities, you shouldn't be tied down by rumors or anything that will leave a stain on your reputation, you've got a longer way to climb than I have."

"Is that why you've asked someone else to shoulder the responsibility, as if it were his?" Athrun responded eloquently, leaning back to survey her, "And if so, why did he agree? There are a few possibilities, that you've given him an incentive to. Either monetary or something deeper."

He broke off rapidly and she hissed, "Don't insult me!"

"You gave yourself easily, didn't you?" Athrun challenged, although there was nothing in his voice that suggested anything but gentle persuasion, "Give yourself to me, when you were the one who suggested we followed what we were supposed to do according to what had already been set out by our parents' deaths on the basis that we had fallen out of love. And my word," His half-smile made her cringe, "Didn't you enjoy it."

She had leapt out of the chair and tried to strike him, but he easily snatched her hand out of the air and held it securely between them. Athrun Zala was a gentleman, she knew that, intrinsically she did, and that he was resorting to slightly caustic words to provoke a reaction from her to prove that she had her honour, that she had loved him from the start, and she knew that she ought not to have responded to his words. But the suggestion behind them was far more than she could bear, especially when his mouth was the very thing that uttered them. She struggled a little, but Athrun looked at her and said in his infinitely quiet, mild manner, "There."

He had never been one to speak very much; he preferred succinct speech rather than verbose exchanges. And the thought of that made Cagalli protest, "It meant nothing!"

Her words rang as hollow as the silence. And Cagalli's eyes fell, her skin feverish and her hurt became obvious.

But Athrun spoke now, and his voice was so low that she had to strain to hear it. "We've never fallen out of love, have we?"

'Athrun,' she thought miserably, 'I've given you all the options you've ever needed to move on. Why do you not?'

"I don't know," She retorted, "That's what you think. I've moved on since the day you moved out."

"You haven't, "He replied in the way that silenced any other objection as he surveyed her levelly, "And falling out of love isn't the reason why we've ruined ourselves. It took me a while to understand, but I do, and fully now. You were always unable to let go of your father's death and the responsibility you thought you had to carry as a burden, didn't you? And that was why I could never fully have you even when you had given yourself or pledged to at very least."

She looked away, discomforted. "I didn't realise until you left. And it's taken me far too long for that realisation that between my country and being selfish for myself, I'm obliged to bind myself to the former."

"So you are," He said with the kind of sigh that make her ache inside, "But can't you have both?"

"I can't be selfish, can I?" She asked, angrily, her eyes were flashing amber. It was true then, he reflected that her insecurities had been the onslaught of the collapse. And that confirmation made him more determined than ever, and he held her gaze without a single thought of what he risked, only that he could not afford to lose the only things that mattered to him then.

He frowned. "Then why did you agree to give yourself to someone other than the country you were bound to?"

"I told you already," Cagalli shot back, well and thoroughly ill at ease now, she was becoming more and more exposed and weaker with every line she was admitting, "It was a mistake, wasn't it? I'm trying to make up for it now, but damn it, you won't let me!"

"You said you couldn't be selfish," Athrun said softly, "Then can I be?"

Her head had slipped down, she had been lost in her darkness and thoughts, but now, her face reverted towards his and a kind of saddened, numbed shock entered her features as Cagalli stared at him. "You-,"

He wanted to be selfish, he wanted to have her, if not entirely, then as entirely as she would allow. That had been the premise for their union each time, each time they touched, he had reasserted his possessive hold over her and she had welcomed it gladly, giving herself, but now, it seemed to her that the destructive nature of the hedonistic, beautiful bond they had shared had been too dangerous. And perhaps, that had been the intrinsic reason for her awakening from the long, glorious dream of being his and having something all to herself.

"I want to be selfish," Athrun continued steadily, not looking away, "I cannot have anybody else. Do you not understand, Cagalli?"

Her eyes were slipping away but reluctantly, she looked back at him, drawn back by his unwavering emerald gaze and the strength he held his posture in. And slowly, her hands lost the strength to hold her knees up to herself, and they slipped, realigning the creases in the folds of the thin white shift, revealing the familiar, soft swell of her breasts under the fine material, and Athrun swallowed. The taste of the night's memories were distant but subtly powerful. But she stood up, as rashly as she would have been capable of and said loudly, over the roar of the thoughts that gushed through her head, the unwelcome joy and strange desire to shout something, anything, "Go back to where you belong, Athrun."

Then she stood and bolted in a flash, calling wildly, "Kisaka!"

But he had blocked the door with his foot and cornered her easily. "Stop. He hasn't got a part in this. Only we do. Didn't you know? Kira and Lacus will not interfere either."

A darkening of his eyes did not deter her. "Go back," She continued rapidly, "And leave me to be. My world once revolved around you, but it has since ceased to. You never gave me a choice to not love you, but now I see what the mistake I made was. We made a mistake, both of us did. But I will never begrudge you anything, and the life in me will not implicate you in any way, I promise you that at least."

"But we haven't finished yet," Athrun said gently, sensing her pain, mistaking his own for hers, but not quite mistakenly either, for both together made them in that moment, "Please, sit down."

"No," She said violently, shaking her head, "I might regret it."

"You might regret not hearing yourself clearly," Athrun corrected quietly, "Please."

His eyes pleaded her in a way his guarded, careful voice would never be capable of doing, and reluctantly, she sat down again. His gaze scanned her hungrily, noting the slight differences, so slight that they were nearly impossible to detect if Athrun had not been one who was so well familiarized with the one he felt for the best. Her lips were fuller and more inviting, her complexion less of the peach-gold but now a more hinting white, waxy even, and he could almost imagine the sensivitised skin tasting milky and inviting. Her neck would surely feel slightly warm, as would her bared torso, warmth that came not from temperatures of the room but her internal development. Instinct told him this as he stared at her.

"Why am I weak?" Cagalli asked desolately, "When I should not be?"

"You aren't," Athrun said in a single, wonderful breath, and his eyes bored into hers. "You possess a strength you don't recognize and that strength draws people to you- myself included."

She looked away as bitterness welled in her.

"I must be taken as I have been made," Cagalli said finally, her eyes pained, "The success of my father's death as a bind to my country and I, or the failure to recognise this early enough before I allowed myself to become involved with you, I don't know. But the two together make me."

"I cannot not have you," Athrun continued, ignoring her slight response, thinking only of what was at stake, of how much he wanted to take her and hold her in his arms, feel her body warmth seeping through the thin material and enveloping them both, "And I understand that you cannot not have your country, a country whose soil is stained with your father's blood sacrifice."

"You understand then," Cagalli said listlessly, "And now you will go."

"Then why did you give your hand?" He demanded, "Why lead me on and spurn me?"

She rose in a stunning fit of pride and rage, on her feet, and suddenly, she felt like the mermaid that had traded everything to walk for her lover, for each step was a performance of fire gushing from her lower limbs to her entire body. "I told you it was a mistake! You were at fault as much as I, although I can scarcely blame your being and your face and the way you held me as much as I blame my own weakness in thinking that I could go against what was set from the minute I watched my father explode in the flames he used to protect this land!"

"Does your self-denial equate to selflessness?" Athrun demanded with his own anger, derisively holding her captive with his voice, but then he felt her thrust of pain as she turned away like he had stuck her, and his voice softened, "If you will not be selfish, at least let me be."

"Why do you assume so?" She asked stubbornly, holding her arm with one hand crossed over her defensively, "What if I say I stopped loving?"

"Then I know you lie," Athrun retaliated unrelentlessly, satisfied at watching her look bewildered at the turn of events that she had not been able to predict or handle now, for he had came with nothing but his determination. She might have been prepared, Cagalli might have been ready to fight, but he presented nothing more than a truth that he would tell.

"You cannot prove it," Cagalli said loudly, boldly defying the fear, "And you have no claim to- to anything."

"The child is mine," Athrun said softly, with a finality and gentleness that struck her more soundly than a blow, "I know. And you are prepared to let go of whatever we shared but it isn't possible if I don't let go of your hand even if you have let go of mine. You belong to me, don't you know? From the time I saw you, you belonged to me."

She stared at him with growing frustration, incensed by his stubbornness that she was supposed to outmatch. And it seemed to Cagalli that he was towering over her, somehow drawing her to him even as she prevented herself from sitting or more accurately, collapsing into the chair that she had previously occupied. She was a failure, the ruse had been worthless. And if she could only make him leave and retreat until it was time to stem all outcomes of his characteristics from appearing in the lives in her, then she would have won a Pyrrhic battle. For he knew the truth.

"I belong to my country!" She declared tautly, badly infuriated by the growing ache in her, and something in her appeared to be forlorn. "And to no other!"

He smiled, it was a painful, tender one. "Still so stubborn. You cannot move me."

"What would you have me do?" She asked indignantly.

"Did you stop loving me when I foolishly left you alone after the loss of our child? Or when you came to me for comfort and I gave you nothing but cold composure?"

Horrified, Cagalli nodded, then shook her head helplessly. "I don't know. I don't know anymore."

"You forgave me, didn't you?"

"As much as you forgave me for losing the child." Cagalli said wistfully and in a manner that reminded him of a tiny boat swept out to the expanse of blue, unthinking ocean. He looked at her and said quietly, "I'll give up anything you want me to in exchange."

They both knew what he referred to. Her lips drew apart in instant protest, and to silence her, he held up some papers he took from behind him, and for the first time, she noticed he had held them securely. Her eyes caught sight of the firm's familiar names, and her heart beat wildly and uncontrollably as her lips became dry.

"This," Athrun said reflectively after a moment or two, "Is proof of the ownership and sole rights I possess to all the possible firms' you might have approached in PLANT. If I know you well enough, you would not give up and try to find a way in PLANT. And therefore, this is the proof that you cannot find another alternative now that the first option is closed."

"Liar!"

Her cry of distress was aching to hear.

"No," Athrun said easily, "Yzak Joule acquired the ORB Centre. I, on the other hand, bought a year's worth of direct ownership to the PLANT foundations. A year is more than enough time to ensure that the child will bear my mark. No doctor or genetic researcher in this country, or any, for that matter, qualified or not, will manipulate our child's genes with our combined acquisitions. I trust you will not go as far as to hire unqualified and untried practitioners of genetic-manipulation that risks the child's life aside from the physical attributes you were planning to modify."

Stricken, she shoved past him, but he caught her hand and dropped the papers, and they cascaded to the floor like grieving white birds whose wings had been shot off. "Who told you?" She asked in a deathly whisper that was sharp nonetheless. "I told no-one, not even Kira."

"I suspected," Athrun replied emotionlessly, "I counted on you being who you are to fight. I kept the fact that I had arrived secret, so I could gather and find all the information I needed."

"They were sworn to confidential information!" Cagalli protested, insane with desperation, "It was impossible for you to know!"

"They were careless, although not quite enough for me to be absolutely sure that you had approached them," He confirmed somewhat wistfully staring at her. His grip was not ungentle but she was held motionless in it. And he lifted a wrist to his lips, baptizing it with a feather-light touch. "You carry my child."

She felt the prickling of tears, because she could not afford to lose and somehow, he would not let her go. And she drew in a deep breath, courage solidifying in her mind's depth and the reaffirmation that she could not win at this stage. "I carry your children."

"Child." His voice held stupendous disbelief.

She shook her head. "No. Children."

His eyes grew wide with astonishment and instantaneous amazement, joy mingling in the forest color. "More than one? Twins?"

She nodded blindly then, too dazed by the joy she had never imagined and the wild happiness that shone through his features. A passionate smile was lighting his eyes, leaving no room for any emotion except an empirical, unthinking, dazed eagerness. And she feared that she wanted to hold him close as he did for her, and try once again, try and eventually fail and know that the entire cycle of pain had repeated itself. No, better to stay away and forbid herself from returning to someone who could so easily tear her away from a country when nobody else could, better that she take their children and live for them and the country instead of someone who would live for her as well.

"Why, he didn't tell me?" Athrun murmured, and suddenly, Cagalli was aware that she was breathing in the heady scent she was so prone to losing herself in, already lost in his arms and his lithe physique that complimented her softer one. But she did not give herself any time to rediscover the sensation of his touch or admire the hard lines of his body, and she clumsily pushed away. "Let go."

"No." He insisted, holding tighter, his breath tickling her ear. "I'll give anything. State and I'll give."

"There isn't a price!"

"There is." He cut in seriously, holding her slightly apart so he could gaze into her face with the brooding expression so vastly different from the one of child-like joy only moments before. "I have paid it."

"What have you done?" She cried.

Something in his voice suggested no reason to think that he was joking or telling a lie. There was only a solemn, slightly wonder-filled note, as if he could not believe what she had only just told him. But his hands, placed securely on her waist in a mimicry of a plant's roots in the ground, encircled her lovingly and drew her near so that he could have kissed her by simply breathing.

"I've resigned from PLANT's service," He answered stoically, in an even manner as she gasped and stared in shock, "I will be here forever, like what I promised before. But they can never recall me back as long as I belong to this country. I have a provisional citizenship here." He reminded her lightly, tracing her cheek with his fingers, ignoring her frozen attempts to speak, "And that is the price I have offered. Is it adequate?"

Shakened, she drew back as much as he would allow her and asked weakly, "But you can't! You're making me seem selfish and the exact reason for not-,"

"I don't care," Athrun interrupted simply, holding her by her bare shoulders, understanding her dilemma for the first time in the truest depth possible, "You understand me, don't you, Cagalli? I don't care."

"Oh what difference does it make?" She cried in frustration and agony, "If I have you with me, I will never truly belong only to my country!"

"I don't want to share you with anything else," Athrun said, in a manner that made nothing but his words become the truth in that instant, "In every thing that lives in this body, I don't. But your blood is of this country's, and tearing you away would not obtain me what I want. I don't care if your guilt in not being totally involved with your country or with me exists- I only care that you are with me and we live. Together. I will never be free of you."

"I must be free of you!"

She was shaking. Hot tears of disappointment with something she couldn't identify and utter futility swept from somewhere and her eyes were luminous. But she did not cry. She could not. For the first time, Cagalli understood him. Why a man like him had chosen to spend his life on a person that she was, she still did not understand. But now she understood, the reason why he had attempted everything to gain her was the same reason why he wanted to keep her by his side now. She still did not know the reason, but it was exactly the same one. She opened her mouth to say something, and a huge, gasping sob tore its way through her, leaving her breathless with gaping, wracked sounds of a silent weeping.

He was instantly holding her to him, pressing her head to his neck, letting himself become weak and somehow so firm still in the way he held her. She did not cling to him like a tiny child; she had that little dignity even in the remnants of her wrecked plans, because she had a pride that was fierce and as golden as her eyes. But the tears came eventually.

How could they not?

He waited however, waited until she could breathe properly once more. His hands were still wrapping her close to him. And she was grateful that she could not see his face and he could not see hers, streaked with tears and her runny nose. She was aware, however, that he was smiling. His voice held that sort of gentleness that reopened a wound in her, a deep wound, because it has been the first cut she had ever experience, and the first cut was always the deepest. "I have offered you a solution, the only one. Will you accept the price?"

"Is there no other way?" She choked. He knew as well as she did, that she was near to the end of her rope of stubbornness. Her guilt at being so easily swept away by a love so intense and the only one she had known when he had brought her across the line of of a child on the cusp of womanhood to being one shaped by the experiences of life he had given her was strong. This was none as strong as the reality, yet, that Athrun Zala was standing before her, and that he had nothing left to offer that he had given up to her. And she put her head against his chest, lulled into a healing calmness by the rhythm of his broken heart. He held her quietly, understanding why she could never give herself totally to him with the blood of her father mixed in the soil of the land they stood on, and he found that it did not matter anymore as long as she was ultimately his. And the reality was dazzling and before their eyes, and so he answered her readily.

"None. I must have you. I made the mistake once of chasing the remnants of my father's sins, trying to atone for them so much that I gave you away to another. I won't allow a second time."

"Alright," She said, a bit of her old spirit returning in that broken moment, and a strength re-entered her face and voice "And only because-"

He lifted her away to survey her face, his eyes eager and satisfied with that spark. "Because?" he prompted.

"Because I can never devote myself entirely to this land while you live. And even if you had gone away, far away where I would not remember and you would not come to find me, you would have taken a part of me away. I had planned to keep that little of you with what I carry in me now, after I thought I could make you leave and find a chance of being happier where-"

"I'll never go," Athrun interrupted briefly, finding the mixture of resolute beauty and wistfulness on Cagalli's face captivating as he stared at her reddened eyes and pinkened lips, "And you can't have a part of me either without my entire self being together with you."

She understood and smiled, a sparkling, genuine smile, perhaps the only one she had wanted to give for the first in a long time. His hands slipped to her tender belly and with sensuous wonder that grew on his face, and wordlessly, he gazed at her.

Athrun had won.

But then, he had never really lost her, now this was something that they understood, because they had never been able to fully alienate each other from their minds. And the unspoken was the most affirmative then as he cupped her cheeks and kissed her mouth gently. Her mouth was bright and curious, something sad formed in the shape of her lips and their subtle soft texture, but all the same, a bright and curious mouth. Unable to stop, unable to not taste her, he took encouragement from her initially reluctant clutch to a frenzied, earnestly passionate embrace. His stubbornness had been dormant, now it arose and overpowered her will. But then, she had been longing, secretly, for a difference, for the greatest length of time. Now he offered it.

And when she broke it desperately, her lungs seeking for air, he smiled vaguely and remarked, "I imagine you'll need an extraordinary amount of help where children are concerned."

She hit him, but he only smiled at her returning tears and the pink blush over her cheeks as he held her breathlessly and the world around them with the white papers he had strewn on the floor loomed smaller and smaller until it was insignificant in its oblivion.


	37. Chapter 37

Chapter 37

* * *

When Kisaka had decided that the phone call was taking far too long for him to simply not bother and wait until Cagalli called for him, he charged into the office. The knock he roughly passed on the solid wood echoed for less than a second before his entire gait had been pulled in with the rest of him. And then he froze. 

His ward was sitting in Athrun Zala's lap, looking very bashful.

The world seemed to pass in time, so fast that relativity was no longer a concept. Time passed like an instant, but the moments stood still. It did not pass Athrun's mind that Kisaka might have not trusted him and came to make sure that he would not try to stop Athrun from seeing Cagalli.

In actual fact, Kisaka hadn't even thought that he would. And therefore, upon coming face to face with Athrun, Kisaka's eyes took on the appearance of saucers.

The two men stared each other, one with the shock of one who had discovered his charge's husband-to-be-removed looking as if Athrun had just proposed, and another with the kind of complete, genteel satisfaction at being the husband-to-be-removed now stationed with the one person he had given everything up for in exchange for her.

"What the blazing hell is going on?" Kisaka demanded loudly in his astonishment, as Cagalli looked up at him, her smile was very shy. And Athrun held her tighter and answered simply, "I've won."

They all knew it wasn't a personal victory or a cause of pride or dominance over Cagalli. But he had won. He had chosen to defy a fate she could have chosen to defy as well, but hadn't found the courage to. But that didn't matter anymore, that he had chosen to fight for both of them rather than what they'd tried to do in the past, and by fighting for themselves, both he and her, they'd had became caught up in their own pasts, their own differences and duties and it had been so difficult to return here.

They'd tried to fight in their own ways, the way they'd been living their whole lives, even when Jun Thornier had been a threat to them, and they'd failed once. But now, he would not fail while fighting for both of them.

And this was simply because he wasn't fighting for himself anymore, he wasn't just fighting to live in a life where distance meant nothing for both of them in their different countries, he was fighting for her to realise that she could be as selfish as she liked where he was concerned.

His smile was gentle, Kisaka saw, as Athrun looked at Cagalli. Perhaps, just perhaps, she would finish her final stages of her maturing in her emotional growth to realise that Athrun had always provided her the right to pursue her own happiness while she had so vehemently denied it. So many thoughts, Kisaka muttered to himself, so many instances where the word 'perhaps' occurred.

And that was the most wonderful of all things. That their future was their to write in any way they wanted from then on.

After Kisaka had left, a behemoth of a guardian, nearly in tears as he vaguely stumbled out, still laughing his thunderous laugh and threatening to murder them both if they tried a stunt like that ever again.

She had lost her heart to the soldier who had tried to kill her, then lost him to his duties and her own, and then herself to her obligations, and that had made her lonely enough to want something she would not lose to anyone, something that reminded her of what she had lost even when she had tried to divide herself for him and for her country, something that would remind her of him, that she had thought she'd given up. And now, he had come back.

Cagalli looked at him and thought to herself, how stubborn she had been and how what she had lost by giving it up was returning to her. Bit by bit, little by little, and she understood that it wasn't that she had the right to give him away, because he wanted to be here, at this moment, in front of the fireplace, watching as she huddled in blankets not unlike the time they had been on the desrted island and he'd kindly given her his blanket even though they were both cold and drenched.

Now, she was cloaked in his embrace and he in hers.

"No need for anything else now," Athrun said tranquilly. "As long as I live, I will need you here with me."

"I've never heard," Cagalli said with a sigh in her voice, although it was not unhappy at all, "Of a man who came to his wife and gave up everything like this."

"But there is one who came to his wife who was bound to her land."

She looked pained and turned away. His next words, however, were firm, no longer musing.

"And there is one who came to his wife who was bound to her land and loved her for being bound to her land. You are the Lioness," Athrun said, with the air of a person who had become very still and in turn stilled the world around him, "And I will have you as you are."

She nodded, too stunned to speak, even though she did not need him to vocalise the pact of common understanding they had obtained in the last three hours. And yet, her heart had beat faster with every word that he had uttered only just.

Shortly after, they left for the place he had missed so deeply and silently, like a knife wound that never completely healed and bled for as long as he held it on his flesh. But when the gates opened with an indignant, aching creak, and they moved out from the car, he caught her in his arms and spun her around like a child, the trees around the wide path bearing witness to their antics and the wind howling and whipping madly around them in the evening. They ended up breathless and laughing, trudging their way up to the house although it was a long walk. When they had re-entered the house after climbing the length of white steps, they stepped in and in no time, the fire crackled cheerily. She removed her coat and his, and he gazed at the world wround them, stripped of his presence but now filled with his being.

And Cagalli glanced shyly at him. "I- I thought it might be best if-,"

"We'll need to make sure the twins don't get into trouble here," He interjected mildly, "Here and there, those corners are quite cumbersome."

"No," She interrupted, embarrassed, "I mean, the room we used to have has been bare since a while ago, and-,"

"Don't worry," Athrun replied, smiling softly, "We don't need anything but ourselves."

He bent down and claimed her mouth again, and she held on tightly to his shoulders, prepared to never let go, and she began to return his kiss with an innocent passion and a sort of golden, glowing longing that he understood as the wounds in them reopened but ceased to hurt as they held each other. And slowly, the touch became less solemn and she brushed her hand against his face with a feather touch like a playful kitten.

"Little minx that you are," He whispered into her hair, his voice a throaty, deep rumble that she shuddered against him, wanting to feel the warmth of his flesh without any external barriers.

"Don't let go," She said, muffled as he lowered her to the ground and she felt a soft thud as her back touched against the floor, "Don't you dare let g-." He silenced her with a finger on her lips and smiled.

"Wouldn't dream of it."

She watched him with lowered eyes, the fire casting golden speck in her already amber eyes, and he tenderly moved down and held her face between his hands, looking at her. The cushion he had placed under her neck made her golden hair fan out like a halo and the firelight glinted on it.

"Imagine us," Cagalli murmured, "Everything we've been through."

"I can," He muttered back drily, "From the way I tried to kill you on the island to discovering you weren't exactly a boy. What a shock.The only thing I've been more shocked by is Lacus telling me in the nicest way that she ever could, that she was a dumpee and I the dumped. I couldn't believe you were a girl when you tackled me."

She looked at him exasperatedly. "Wasn't it obvious?"

"No," He said with a serious, solemn look, "Not until you lifted your shirt."

She made a sound of distaste and smacked him across his arm, and he laughed and refrained from the urge to tackle and wrestle with his amber spitfire. Irritated at him treating her so carefully, she rashly shook him, although she did not quite manage to, given how he was bending over her, lowered and firm. "Damn it, you always make me so-,"

"But you need me anyway," He said, in a way that made it impossible for her to disagree. She pulled him down to her, searching for the warmth and in a frenzy of irritation and affection, she bit his ear, but not quite hard enough for him to bleed. He grinned. "Leave that to the twins."

She grimaced. "I can't wait."

"Neither can I," He replied carelessly, still wild with the silent joy of her in his arms, still lost in the mad, frantic pace of recovering everything they'd lost, making sure they'd never lose it again. She understood, and for a minute, it seemed as if they were in another place altogether, she asking him to make sure she wasn't dreaming, and he showing her that everything was a reality as solid as having his arms encasing her in the warmth that he provided.

A golden silence spread itself like the snow outside the house, in the room, like how the white blanket dressed the fields in the cold. But she broke into it after a while, because she could not keep quiet when she wanted to say so much, tell him so much, but didn't quite know how to begin. And when she spoke, she wasn't quite thinking any longer.

"I reckon," Cagalli offered, a slightly mischievious sparkle in her eyes, "We sell off the firms you acquired while we can. And tell them the deal's off. We won't be requiring their services anymore, either of us. The lawyer too, although he won't be as disappointed as these money-grubbers. I should really look into their accounts, since they are a monopoly in ORB."

"Wise decision," Athrun remarked, and he stood gracefully and swept the papers he had left, sheet by sheet, into the fire that consumed the white pieces eagerly. And he rejoined her again, by the fire with an intensity in his arms and lips that rivaled the fire's warmth and crackling.

And it didn't matter that there was little in the house that spoke of Athrun, because he held her now as they nestled and tussled like maddened beasts, she was wild and uncontrallable and he was cautious and firm, although she became frustrated with his semi-interest in following her pace and cried, "I'm not made of glass, damn it!"

And he laughed and took her challenge until they were completely exhausted and spent. They knew what each other was trying to do, reliving that one night they had spent, except there would be no more betrayal in the morning, and that Athrun would make a few calls in the morning for his things to be sent back here. They held each other for a while soon after, enjoying being in the other's arms and watching the shadows of the things around them flicker on flesh. "What are you thinking?" Cagalli whispered drowsily, her hands still tangled around his neck. One hand of his, likewise, was tied firm in her hair at the back of her golden head, and his other lightly tracing her.

"That I'm bloody starving."

She laughed, getting up after him, and they made do with what they could, stopping to tease each other and getting so caught up by each other's efforts to distract the other that it was remarkable that they made their sandwiches at all. And when actual night had fallen and Cagalli had dozed off, Athrun prepared himself and slipped out from the house and drove to a tiny bar he knew of. They had loved utterly and completely, and he felt as if everything had been completed, almost willing to die then, if he had been asked to. He had seen her body, slightly but only very barely fuller beneath the thin nightgown he had brought and slipped over her head, lest she catch a cold. But that was expected, she was barely in the first trimester, and still, Athrun could not stop himself from imagining her form, weighted gloriously with his children, rich with promise.

He hadn't wanted to leave her after gaining her back only so shortly ago, but there was one final thing to take care of.

And making sure nobody saw him, and ignoring the seedy-looking area even as a few women called out to him with scornful, flirtatious eyes, he crossed a few streets, flipped a coin into a beggar's cup and slipped into the seat, next to Benjamin Goebbels. He looked almost out of place in that bar, neat, well-dressed, quite handsome with his dark brown hair and oval-framed glasses, he looked the part of an intellectual and nothing else.

Neither man said anything although they each took a sip of their beverages, until Athrun finally spoke up.

"She's asleep now."

"I know." Goebbels echoed evenly, "And that's why you agreed to come to meet me."

He smiled, although it was not a scornful one. "Thank you."

"I won't be coming back to ORB after this. There's been a few offers here in PLANT for administrative work now that the developments you were incharge of have fully taken flight. I've accepted already. But then," Goebbels looked at him emotionlessly, "She won't mind."

He took off his glasses, and Athrun looked at him. He had perfect eyesight, didn't he? These were normal glasses, not eye ones. Their glint and what Athrun could see through them were as untinted as normal windows, nothing magnified or even blurred.

"No," Athrun admitted, "Because she never has."

"True," Goebbels said, shrugging, and for a minute, Athrun imagined the searing pain that went through the other man, but was faintly glad he wasn't sitting in his seat instead, "I've never possessed her. When I met her as little more than a youth, as a playmate for Yuna Roma Seiran, I imagined myself a sort of knight that would save her from that lout the Heir of Seiran was. God, you should have seen her kick at him, she was unbridled and a terror. But she was a very spirited, beautiful child. Yuna Roma once admitted to me that he privately thought that her golden hair crackled with energy and he wanted to reach out and touch it. She never allowed him to come near her, much to my relief. But then she never noticed me, she never noticed anyone because she had everything as a child and even if she didn't have a mother, Kisaka always protected her. And she never recognised me even when I left the Seiran's service to work directly under Kisaka."

"Why didn't you even try?" Athrun asked, curious.

"I did, you can rest assure that I did," Goebbels said, not bitterly, but the emptiness of his voice made the words even more bitter in their hollowness, "I was seventeen when she ran off to Heliopolis and came back, slightly bruised but none the worse for wear, and I was so relieved to see her. She was welcomed back even as she raged and screamed at the leaders and her father for allowing Heliopolis to be the weapon hell that it had become, and Yuna Roma Seiran jumped at the opportunity to ask the leaders to let them marry. Because he had come of age, and she was already sixteen by then. The leaders wouldn't have agreed because they were still too young to fully manage their tempers and their lot in life, but she ran away with Kisaka before I could even muster the courage to speak to her. At that time, she didn't even know who I was, she didn't want anything to do with Yuna Roma Seiran."

"And you were his playmate and consort?" Athrun inquired, feeling his pulse quicken. So that had been her history. All that she had thought she'd known but had never known because she had never seen past the fall of Heliopolis and her subsequent time with the Desert Dawn.

"Yes. I cursed the fact sometimes, that I was an orphan sent in to be his friend and that sort of company that money and prestige paid for." Goebbels offered tonelessly, "And that made her ignore me. I wanted to rise above that idiot. And when she ran away, I despaired, for Yuna Roma was sent away to Europe to study and I with him. And we were kept there for safety reasons while the war erupted in its fullest effects and eventually died out after the Jachin Due Battle. By the time I returned to ORB with him, he was ready to claim Cagalli again. I met you there, in fact, I stood amongst the officials watching Yuna Roma embrace his soon-to-be bride."

"I never noticed you." Athrun said quietly, unintentionally cruel. But Goebbels showed no reaction other than the wan smile and his next words.

"And I knew she loved you, because she kept turning her head, back to look at you even as she was led away by the imbecile that he was. Yuna Roma kept trying to possess her, he tried to control her and make her comply to his wishes, but the more she fought him, the more enamoured he became of her. I was always jealous of his power. Because power equated to ability."

Athrun understood. The power to do, the power to _be_. "And the wedding after I left?"

"I was surprised," Goebbels said, looking directly at him, "I half-suspected you would come for her. But you didn't and the Freedom did. But I wasn't even there at the ceremony. By that time, I had fled on the pretense of managing the work that Yuna Roma was neglecting in EA, and had stayed there, unwilling to watch her give her hand to someone as unworthy as him. And immediately after that, I handed in my resignation and came back to work for the government itself, rather than the Seiran House."

"All so Cagalli would finally notice you by the time she came back to ORB to reclaim her rightful ownership?"

"Obviously so." Goebbels said with a sort of sigh. "When she came back, she removed Yuna Roma quite successfully, and I was already answering to only Kisaka. But there was a marked difference in her, something I still can't quite understand up until today. And for the next two years, I served under her, and she trusted me quite completely. And I realised as time went by, that I was never existent as more than her subordinate, because the more I tried to control her, the more she grew distant. And in the most ironic sense," He gave a dry smile, "I was like Yuna Roma in that way."

"But you still had a chance before we married," Athrun interjected, "Why didn't you?"

"Because I found that the ache wasn't so deep after a while," Goebbels said simply, touching the cold rim of his glass, "I could never throw away my career and what I had worked so hard to achieve after so long for just the chance to be with her. And Cagalli was far too caught up with you to even notice. But I was careful not to show anything." He admitted, "I never let myself get too near her. And she never made the effort to draw me nearer. When she came back from Berlin two years after the Second War, I knew you had returned."

"I punched you," Athrun recalled wryly, and Goebbels gave a short bark of laughter. " I detested you."

"Mutual," Goebbels agreed, smiling slightly. But the smile made a warmth enter his eyes that Athrun had never seen before. His eyes were reflected in a pair that could have been his. Uncanny. Had that made Cagalli accept Goebbels even without fully understanding what she had meant to him? Athrun would never know.

"And I was sent to travel on a diplomat's task," Geobbels continued, "While you were with her. And it wasn't a long trip, but it was enough for you to secure your hold on her even tighter than before. And I opened the newspapers one morning to see the ruined beach and both your names, and I knew you would eventually make her come back to you. So I stayed where I was, unable to watch her give her hand to someone who was now worthy of her. It was less difficult however, than watching her give her hand to Yuna Roma, because you are a deserving man. I eventually came back and she hadn't even noticed that I had been gone. But then I realised, although I didn't say anything, that you were becoming as estranged from her as she was from you. But I thought only of aiding her. You will think what you like of me, but it is done for anyway and you still have her."

They sat in silence. And Athrun eventually stood up and offered his hand. Goebbels took it after a split-second's worth of hesitation.

And Athrun left to return to Cagalli.

In Athrun's apartment, Meyrin was rifling around the place, searching in cabinets and fridges for something to eat. She had always been a good actress or liar, whichever, in her desperation. And she had waited a long time before the phone had rang, and true to her word, she did not answer. And when Athrun's cell had rang, she had answered it in a way she deemed as suitable for creating the impression that he was still in PLANT, with her, in fact, as if to live out the last of her childish fantasies that Athrun Zala loved her, Meyrin Hawke, and wasn't away in another place, fighting for another.

And she had helped Athrun more than once now, with her lies. Was that a loaf of bread? Yes. Surely, he would not mind to her eating what had probably been meant to be his lunch, not after she had willingly helped him.

She smiled, and her smile was very contented and child-like, before she reached for another cabinet, searching for proper utensils. And that was when a few tears came but she dried them and smiled again, in her semi-disappointment and semi-joy.

After that, she went home, glad that Bonita was at her mother's and would not be around to ask where Meyrin had disappeared to for the past hours. Meyrin would tidy up the place a little, because Shinn Asuka had given her a call and asked if she would put up with him for a while because he was here in PLANT and wanted to see her.

She walked back to her apartment and stopped in her tracks, a few meters away from the door, her key already in her hand. He looked up at her from where he had been leaning on the grail, his hands in his pockets, and he stared at Meyrin with his ruby eyes moving in his white face, his dark hair tousled with the wind, and he smiled.

In the Joule Estate, Shiho was brushing her long, fine dark hair, and Yzak watched her from where he sat, no longer speaking brusquely and impatiently tapping his hand against the desk, instead, he had retired to their bedroom and swapped his full military attire for a suit. They would go out for dinner tonight. Now, he reclined, slightly worn-out by the day's events. His reflection showed as a striking man, upon the large, oval and ornate vanity mirror as well. She turned around to face him with a little upturn of her lips, and he smiled, silently approving of the wine-coloured silk dress she had chosen to wear. In her ears dangled a pair of magnificent opals that Ezalia Joule had sent along with the wedding gifts and her blessing.

"They nearly died, the both of them, when I called the deal off. Imgaine losing the propsect of seventeen billion and eight-five thousand in less than an hour." Yzak remarked, his eyes tracing Shiho's face in his usual calculated manner. She laughed, a weak cry, and answered breathlessly, "And to think you sat here all day, with a phone in your hands, just waiting for the other side to make her bargain, and you were so stern with them! Why, it was almost watching you with the troops in putting forward your terms! And all to render a heart attack on the directors once you cancelled it."

"What about it?" Yzak sneered, coming forward so that his hands were firm on her as she shifted around, standing up form where she had previously sat, "It wasn't difficult. Nothing ever is."

"I still cannot believe that you kept doubling the price that she offered," Shiho said doubtfully.

"And why not?" Yzak asked amusedly, "The directors couldn't either, they kept tabs on the Joule assests al; the while just to be sure I wasn't lying, and I think the deposit I placed each time proved it wasn't empty talk. The onyl reason why they believed it was I who wanted to purchase the entire proprietorship was because I made sure to look official. But I don't see the point in acquring a genetic research foundation, I'd prefer vineyards, they tend to break even on a more regular basis and ensure profits within ten years of establishment, rather than an unstable messing around with Science."

He watched her sit down and slide her white foot into a slipper studded with rhinestones. Her mother's. And she looked up and grinned suddenly.

"But why did you help a man you said you couldn't quite stand?" Shiho asked, provoking him with her teasing smile, and he growled and promised to ravish her after they came back from dinner, with the look in his deep blue eyes.

"You could say I like the idea of Zala making me the godfather of his child." Yzak said carelessly.

She grinned, enjoying his mock-arrogance and she stroked his cheek tenderly. His eyes closed as he pulled her in. "Now we'll have another couple to add on to the guest list. I imagine they will congratulate us whole-heartedly."

He bent forward to kiss her cheek but paused. She stared up at him, not quite understanding why he had paused.

"Certainly," Yzak said ruefully, "Amongst other things as well."

A month later, Athrun sat, watching the sea churn and toss fitfully. But his mood was tranquil, as was Cagalli's. The sun was not up yet, and most of the world here was still tucked in their covers, fast asleep. And there was only a faint pink dyed in the fabric of greys the sky wore that morning, near the crying of the wind and wild breezes that made their hair flutter from where they sat, facing the vast stretch of isolated beach and ocean. He had woken up to find her sitting outside their room, alone at the balcony.

"This is disconcerting," Cagalli muttered, turning back to Athrun. "The rumours fit in so well with the facts that I've started doubting what's real and what's not. Worse thing is I actually know."

She let the papers fly to the side, and they moved closer, pressing her towards the couch's back her chest was faced to.

He grinned. "No matter. We'll collect these and laugh over it one day."

They were sitting at a balcony, facing the beautiful gray seas, in the same couch. For she had nestled on it, her chest turned towards the crisp cold air and he next to her, although his bare torso was not wrapped in the blanket like hers, and his arms were pressed over her bare arms as they surveyed the seas from high above. Their hair flew in the wind, so lightly and so freely that she felt like they were seagulls, bound to nothing and free from everything.

"How do you find Marseilles?" He asked lazily, and she grinned, turning slightly to look at him, and she replied easily, "It's beautiful. And I won't have to deal with Kisaka fussing over what I do when I'm expecting."

They smiled at each other, enjoying the breeze that came in. It was bold being in this state, but this part of the sea was deserted and mysterious, very quiet, and no other suite had its balconies facing this way. Athrun however, frowned a little. "Shouldn't you get back where it's warmer?"

"No," She reminded him, "It's precisely because the rooms are so well-heated that I felt it was too stuffy and came out here. And if you're chiding me for not being properly clothed," She gave him an amused look, "I'll have to remind you that you're the one without the shirt."

"It's not that cold." He protested. She chuckled her answer. "Precisely."

He admitted defeat by resting his chin above her head, wrapping her closer. "Imagine if we had announced anything before I'd came back to you."

She looked pensive. "I'd rather not, now that I have the alternative."

Athrun smiled peacefully. "Lacus called last night, while you were in the shower. She says she'd like you to call her back."

"Why didn't you tell me?" She asked reproachfully.

"Because you'd have gotten distracted."

He relished the invasion of color in her cheeks.

"I have the worst timing," Cagalli sighed, "Always seems that I miss her calls directly at the point when she dials for me. Did you speak to her?"

He smiled a secret smile now, his former one becoming slightly sly. "I did. But nothing very- important."

She snorted. "Important? What are your standards of important anyway? I should get up and call her now, or I'll never get to know what you were both talking about that might be important by my standards and hers. I suppose your standards of important w-"

He nuzzled her neck and she shifted her golden hair to allow him better excess, her words dying away on her lips, never once tired of the effect he had on her although he had demonstrated it so many time already.

He whispered something into her ear, testing her patience with his slow, languorous teasing and she colored, not with embarrassment, but with the unbridled sensations.

"Yes," She whispered faintly to him, pink where he had kissed her, and she turned herself and gathered the blanket around both them, "Very much."

"Good." He said, satisfied, and well recovered from the heat of the rooms, he led her back in. The papers rustled in the wind, whispering the secrets of the world and the endless time of each moment joined to the next and the subsequent next.

* * *

_C.E 80- 21st December_

_Excerpts from PLANT PRIMETIME-EXCLUSIVE REPORT_

_Page 1_

_Commander Yzak Joule, (aged 26) has been recently promoted to shoulder new responsibility as ETERNITY's new Chairman. He is uncontactable for comment. His comrade and long-time friend, Dearka Elseman, who fought in the First and Second Wars with Chairman Joule, eagerly commented that the newly-promoted Chairman is prepared to take on the fresh challenge to the best of his abilities._

_Page 5_

_After a length two years, the groundbreaking step to restructure and recreate the internal and external prong of deterrence has been taken and completed. PLANT economists have calculated that the initial outlay of the new systems will set PLANT back by half a year of the sum of national incomes at the very minimum, but General Hohenheim begs to differ. Below is his statement._

_Page 6_

_Athrun Zala (aged 25) has confirmed that his resignation from PLANT'S Ministry has been forwarded and approved. He leaves behind a string of dazzling accomplishments that are astonishing for his age. (For the list of achievements, refer to the inserts pf pages 6-7 of Article C.34, Section DII)_

_The latest accomplishment has been achieved at the expanse of nearly two years of intensive research and testing for an entire revamp of the PLANT security system, inclusive of the internal security locking of the PLANT system and the universally employed OS of the current generation of mobile suit fleets ZAFT uses. The former ETERNITY Chairman has declined any comment on his sudden resignation, except for a single sentence he has issued when caught up with in Aprilius a week ago. Known for his succinct ways and quiet mannerisms, Zala has said this in response to being asked why he abruptly shifted away from PLANT's government to being permanently situated in the United Emirates of ORB as a certified citizen. According to the High Council's Chairman, when asked if it was worthwhile in giving up his place in PLANT and ZAFT for another country as entirely as he had done, Athrun Zala replied as follows._

_"It is."_

_His wife, the Supreme Commander of the United Emirates of ORB, Cagalli Yula Atha, (aged 25) has similarly declined comment when asked why Zala has taken the initiative to change his provisional citizenzship in ORB to a permanent, certified one. Zala will oversee the entire military system of ORB as its commander-of-military while assisted by Ledonir Kisaka, the Official Advisor of ORB. The latter has been quoted to responding to rumors that Zala was frustrated with leading a separate live from Atha as such, "I don't know about you, sir, but I wouldn't like to live a few billion kilometers away up in space while my missus is at the other end of the universe."_

_Kira Yamato, (aged 25) has reportedly convinced the military leaders and the head council he is part of to approve of Zala's decision. He is the brother of Atha and is well-known to have been a war hero who fought alongside Zala while primarily in allegiance to the Eternal, which Mediator Clyne, (aged 25) Yamato's wife, was the leader of. Neither of them are contactable for comment on Zala and Atha._

_Meanwhile, Atha is expecting the couple's first children, reportedly twin boys. It is therefore debatable if the rumors are accurate in the allegations that they are facing marital difficulties. Further speculations include the famous couple naming the expected twins after Zala's parents. The world rejoices with the soon-to-be parents._

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	38. Chapter 38

Disclaimer: I own nothing of GS/GSD. R&R please.

* * *

This is the final chapter after the entire saga. Thank you again to those who have reviewed so consistently and so helpfully, I really appreciate it. Twilight's Conspiracy, SamuraiGirl7, cottongreentea, Athyra, Teca no Shinju, The Wayfarer 2000, shiloah18, Freyis, cara410, 15transcends, ghikJ and a whole host of other reviewers out there, there are so many to name. I hope you like the last bit of this. ASUCAGABANZAI!

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Epilogue 

_To my Dearest Lacus,_

_I've lost count of dates. Athrun says it matters very little, and yet, he watches the calendar like a month will pass by if he only blinks. I cannot help but laugh when I am with him, although he maintains the fact that he has not gone out of the way to make himself a clown for my amusement, only that I find everything a riot nowadays._

_We've promised to see you, and Kira is waiting as well, I'm sure. But I cannot seem to get away. Kisaka handles most of the work, he is an idiot when it comes to things like these, and Athun encourages him. I still manage to do a little here and there, albeit Rainie conspiring to send me off with Athrun on a sort of retreat, she claims. It was successful, the air here is a little colder than usual, but I am enjoying myself immensely. The snow here is beautiful, the landscape looks like a uniform blouse of pure white cotton against the black lining that is the forest line. _

_I tried to call you, but each time I call, you cannot seem to get away either. But there's something about letters that is more convenient and something more poignant, isn't there? I suppose you'd read this while bouncing Leon on your lap, or since he's grown so much, Kira would be instead. Say hello to both of them for me. Athrun sends his love as well._

_But congratulate Yzak Joule for me when you do see him, for his promotion and his soon-to-be marriage . I know he'll take on the role as the Chairman of ETERNITY with dedication and his supreme capabilities. Shiho will probably make sure that he doesn't lose his temper with the subordinates too much. I do not doubt that I will not see them soon, or will Athrun, for that matter. Athrun minds very little; he says he'd rather not meet up so soon with his friend, in case Yzak hasn't recovered fully from the prospect of working even longer hours yet._

_The newspaper reports are flying wildly all over the place, and I suppose PLANT must be engaged with the same sort of things. They've finally had the field day they've always wanted, what with Yzak Joule announcing his marriage, although it's been a sort of conspiracy for a long time already, hasn't it? It seems to me that they've been planning it in secret for a long time. We'll be there soon enough to watch Shiho blush like a young girl on her wedding day. Send our congratulations to both of them!_

_I laugh whenever I read the conspiracy theories that say PLANT took such a godforsaken length of time dealing with the military developments that Athrun Zala got utterly fed up with being in space and away from ORB that he threw in the towel a week before the developments were finally finished. Mind you, nothing denies that a splendid job was done. He laughs with me as well, he says the newspapers have got their conspiracy theories right. But he doesn't care, he's got a lot to deal with, he says. Heading the ORB military is difficult when there are a so many mixtures of Coordinators and Naturals in every sector, and besides, he claims he has a more important task at hand. I hit him every time he tries that tomfoolery with me._

_I'm sorry I ever hid so many things from you. But I'm living in a reality that he's sharing with me. The past haunts me still, but perhaps not so much. It won't, I suspect, once things happen. _

_The tests have shown them to be both boys, identical, most likely. _

_Wish us luck!_

_With all my love,_

_Cagalli_

Lacus turned to Kira, who had been reading over her shoulder. "What do you think?'

He grinned, boyishly handsome even in his white uniform. She looked as if she hadn't aged since she was eighteen, although her hair did not have a white bow any longer, as if to prove she was no longer a girl but his woman, and there was a new, rich grace in her fine features. And yet-

"Let's not tell anyone," He said simply to Lacus, "We'll wait until Athrun and Cagalli come."

"Alright," she agreed, "Our secret then."

He let go of her and picked up a haro that had been lazily humming and swimming in the air. Leon was at school, and they would fetch him after work. Life wasn't perfect but it was perfect in its imperfections still. Strange.

"They found a way in the end, didn't they?" He whispered into her hair, quite aware that nobody would look into his office to ruin the tranquil moment he had shared when she had came in to show him the letter she had received, quite beside herself with excitement at the rumors being confirmed by Cagalli's own handwritten words. Athrun would make a wonderful father.

"They did," Lacus answered peacefully.

Then she laughed merrily as they surveyed the drawings Leon had done and those that Kira had pasted with some tape around the place. Haros and flowers were peppered on the papers, a brown shape that was distinctively like his violin to look at, and alternate black and white strips of a piano drawing.

Leon's violin teacher had been impressed by his inherent talent, although not quite with his singing. Lacus had tried hard, to not laugh, but his singing voice resembled a cat in distress. But he was clearly so intelligent, even in the mechanical toys he had loved to tinker with, and Kira had once remarked that there was something more like Athrun in there than anything else.

He smiled wordlessly, his hands still planted on Lacus' waist. Leon, four now, would have cousins and a sister soon, perhaps one with Lacus' eyes again, and a daughter with her beauty and grace.

They had thought of a name. Vea, named for Via.

It meant 'way'.

* * *

C.E. 84 

"Sir!"

Athrun turned to observe the officer. A young recruit no doubt. Was he a coordinator? Perhaps. Or perhaps not. He simply couldn't tell these days, not after peace had become more than a deepened tolerance, it had become a fixture. And Kisaka had mentioned once or twice that a few of his soldiers were getting hitched to Coordinators when they were Naturals. The lines were blurred now, but that was the outcome they'd been working for so long.

The young officer looked dazed, as if coming close to Athrun Zala was a milestone in his life. It probably was, Kisaka observed. Not many people could say they weren't awed by his very presence. Not that the General was a overtly dominant person, rather, he was a born leader with the quiet, strong aura that was effortless. And the officer looked a bit embarrassed that Athrun Zala was smiling directly at him, in his unassuming, polite manner. Embarrassed, but very pleased nevertheless.

"Very well. Dismissed."

He turned to Kisaka. "What were you saying before this of their performance today?"

"Splendid, as usual." Kisaka said thoughtfully, "And I can safely put my head on the chopping board in saying that I cannot detect much of a difference in the ORB troops abilities in their defense maneuvers.. I'm assuming, however that the mobile suits have been suitably modulated to go hand in hand with each man's abilities. It's not so important though, especially when half our new recruits are of mixed heritage. I can't foresee the modified genes having any part to do with their performance today."

"Yes," Athrun replied briefly, acknowledging some passing soldiers who trembled as they dutifully saluted. He scanned the surroundings as the troops left, talking and swarming excitedly. The grounds would be bare for the afternoon. "And we have Morgenroete to thank."

Kisaka gave a short bark of laughter. "How is Cagalli?"

"Much better," Athrun smiled, "The two apologised with the usual package, flowers and the lot. They didn't mention uprooting the gardens the poor gardener worked on. But he didn't mind, he said if it'd help them get into the Princess' good books, then he'd willingly let them pick as many posies as they wanted. "

The burly man gave a bark of laughter. "Sly. How old are they now?"

"Five," Athrun replied with the faintest hint of pride. "Although Alex always seems to be elder by a few years and not a few minutes."

Kisaka grinned, a frightening smile with his bulk, but on closer inspection, it was a warm one. Athrun scarcely noticed, he was thinking of other things in the general heat of the summer. His uniform had thinned slightly with the passing of years, although Kisaka had re-issued him a new one, claiming that generals did not wear threadbare uniforms. So he had a new one which was as thick as the first one he had worn.

Kisaka ambled off, shouting that he wanted to speak to some soldiers. And Athrun stared as his retreating back, noting how much Kisaka had aged recently. He wasn't young anymore, although he was rather sturdy and threatening still. But his dark hair was peppered with grey now, and his eyes were a little dulled. He had announced his retirement soon, much to Cagalli's half-dismay and half-joy that he would finally receive the rest and unhurried lifestyle he'd deserved for a long time.

"Since I met you when you were a child, that is," Kisaka had mocked. She had scowled and then laughed.

Athrun stared at the skies. It would rain today; it was bound to, what with the humid weather. A voice shook him out of his thoughts.

"Father!"

He turned around, just in time, for two speedily-moving blurs of midnight to slam into him. Laughing, he hoisted Aiden on his shoulder, and the boy gurgled happily in a sound imitation of a stream, while Alex stubbornly clung to his leg, shouting childishly, "The cat scratched me!"

"It's not like the cat to do that to you," Athrun mused, mock-thoughtfully, "Isn't Aiden supposed to be the regular scratching post?"

"She scratched me too!" The younger twin piped up excitedly, his tiny arms tight around Athrun, threatening to strangle the very breath out of him. "And Alex scolded her and then, only then, she scratched him!"

"You teased the cat, didn't you?" Athrun asked dryly, ruffling Alex's hair as his son turned slightly red in being torn apart from having to keep quiet about his younger brother's misdemeanors and his own need to tell the truth. Aiden shrugged with every drop of nonchalance a five-year-old could pull off. "She was fat. She needed exercise."

"Enough of that," another voice said laughingly, and the three turned around to see Cagalli walking forward, her blonde hair whipping in the wind, giving her the appearance of someone who had just walked on the beach. She hadn't lost her willful vitality, although that had mellowed to a fierce beauty with the years, and she was as desirable as ever, not only to Athrun but the rest of the world. Just the other day, Athrun had caught a foreign minister staring for too long at her and the man had quite accidentally, landed up on the floor, tripped by somebody he couldn't quite detect in the mass of people in the hall. Athrun had looked around in surprise, his conversation with another person disrupted for a minute as they paused. But his mouth had twitched, and Cagalli, as unassuming as ever, had wondered how her guest had even tripped.

The sweet features of her face was still as susceptible to blazing anger and her jaw still held the slight mould of stubbornness, and she had lost nothing that had made Athrun love her increasingly by the minute as they'd sat down, drenched and miserable, by the fire on the island so long ago. Her bearing was very proud even with her stature, and she walked forward with the authority of someone who knew the power she held and how to yield it.

'Quite different at home,' Athrun thought vaguely, entranced by her. She had changed out of her uniform and was wearing a cream cotton dress to meet him, possibly once the nurse had sent the boys to the office for her to bring to him. Now, she knelt and gently uprooted Alex, and she swung him in her arms, not quite as strong as Athrun with her comparatively more petite frame next to his lithe one, but still very strong even if her hands weren't very much larger than the boys' ones.

Alex squealed and he clung to his mother, suddenly kissing her on her cheek and she coloured rapidly. Aiden struggled to reach her too, and with mounting amusement, Athrun held him closer so he could make his mother blush an even deeper shade. Their hair was kept short, somehow like Kira's to look at when he had been sixteen, and a wispy midnight. Already, people could see that they had Athrun's pale skin and a mixture of their parent's sharp beautiful features although they looked almost like Athrun when he had been their age, and their clumsy running would become a lethal, feline grace that Athrun possessed.

But how different they were!

Alex was well and truly, the spitting image of his father, and Cagalli was sometimes disconcerted with how alike they were in their quiet ways and silent strength. He lost his temper very little and never cried, because he never liked to cause trouble to anyone. But Aiden, he was a little terror, always getting into trouble and dragging his twin along in it, and his face always held that fierce brilliance and curiosity that Alex's face never showed as much as his twin did. She had named Alex for his emerald eyes, so reminiscent of Athrun's, glowing and like jewels in his face, but Athrun had named Aiden for her even as she had lifted him to her, stroking her second child's head and murmuring to him as he had feebly reached for her. Aiden, the little fire, one half of ORB's joy, one half of the two scions, and his elder twin Alexander, the defender of men, the other half of the revered children Cagalli had given birth to. When Athrun Zala and Cagalli Yula Atha had stood before their country and lifted the twins to the sky, the nation had rejoiced and the cheers had been defeaning. She had given them twin scions. Lady Sahaku had been present, and her eyes had been sad although her smile was warm, perhaps for the twin she had lost. But she was the past, and they the future of the country.

The twins had his hands, their fingers were long and slim already, and they had started their piano lessons already. Leon was already adept at the violin and was eagerly waiting for them to accompany him. The three of them were troublemakers when they were together, always as thick as thieves, much to Lacus' chagrin. She once remarked to Cagalli that Leon became a little devil with the twins, getting into all sorts of mischief, and his clothes, muddied and torn, often bore testimony to this.

If Athrun wasn't wrong, his sons would have been subjected to the daily and quite usual standards of being squealed over, petted and fondled by everyone in her office, and from the looks of Alex's and Aiden's bulging pockets, they had received their daily dose of chocolates and such things. He made a mental note to confiscate those later, as he did everyday.

He viewed Cagalli, her eyes wide and golden, and her mouth lovely and bright. At home, she lost the edge and sureness she displayed like a sword in her office, she became shy and unsure around her children sometimes, unsure of what to say when they presented her with little things they had made at their school, unable to say how much she loved them. But it didn't quite matter because she showed it willingly with as much eagerness as them. Really, they were all children in that respect, Cagalli and the twins.

But when they got into mischief, Aiden willingly and Alexander not so willingly but mostly in the need to make sure his younger brother wouldn't get into too much trouble, she would simply roar and send them quaking. Athrun often watched in amusement. But the twins were possibly more afraid of angering him than their mother, because they had seen him lose his temper once, and they had hid under the table in their fear. Cagalli had tried to hide the poor broken shell, semi-crushed on its black string, but he had found it anyway.

All was forgiven eventually, and the twins had apologised quite thoroughly for not heeding their mother's instructions not to play with her things.

There was one thing they were still very curious about, however. The locked drawer was a looming presence in their minds.

The key, they were aware, was in their parent's room, a good distance away from their playroom.

That evening, Aiden said quietly to his brother, " Leon said he heard Uncle and Aunt talking about a drawer that's always locked."

"W-What's that for?" Alex asked in semi-fascination and semi-fright, because he was wise enough to know what Aiden wanted to amuse them with for the rest of the day.

His younger brother giggled. "We'll find out."

They crept to their parents' room after tuning several corners and walking down a few corridors. They had gotten lost once, in this house, but Alex had guided them out by sheer deductive thinking. He had left things around the places they'd been to, and when they had finally found their way into the main corridor, they'd been left with nothing but their shorts and shirts on. Their shoes and such had vanished. And when Athrun and Cagalli had returned, they had been irked to find that their sons had left their things all over the place.

Aiden peeked in; a wicked little smile on his cherubic face, so like Athrun's to look at. His brother shared his face and their father's, but their very range of expressions and the variations always separated them apart. His twin's was serious and solemn; he was a handsome boy in his quiet, grave ways, although he was capable of losing his temper, cold and furious, so like his father's. And Aiden was very different, he was always inquisitive, always asking questions and demanding answers, and he had a courage and love for trouble that Athrun teased Cagalli for giving to their second son. And his eyes were not Athrun's or Alex's; his were amber and golden like a cat's. Like Cagalli's.

And Alex prodded his twin. "Well?"

Aiden turned back to him, their midnight hair mingling as their heads came close to each other's, and their matching white shirts making them appear angelic and innocent. Which they were regrettably not quite. "The key's in a drawer."

Alex noted the crestfallen expression and grinned, running a hand through his brother's hair with his soft, slim fingers, strangely elongated for his age when most children had chubby fingers. "It's fine, I can get it. Stay here and watch."

He snuck in, pausing only to grin at his mother, who had curled up like a cat a while after they'd returned and was slumbering peacefully, very beautiful to look at with her golden hair glinting with the slight light. It had entered with the tiny parting of the magnificent lengths of the curtains in the gigantic room, behemoth even, for a small child. His father was nowhere in sight, although Alex was quite certain that he was working in the drawing room once their mother had fallen asleep.

And Alex knew that his father watched his mother sleeping quite often, because he had snuck out of bed once, without Aiden just for that time, to the kitchen, hungry for something. And he had passed by his parent's room and looked through the little keyhole, and observed curiously, his father sitting by the bed, fondly stroking his mother's hair as she breathed lightly, deep in her dreams. He had kept this a secret without even knowing why it was one, or why his father only went to sleep a while after his mother each time, almost as if to make sure she didn't wake and run off or something to that extent. All this was muddled in a five-year-old's head, but an inherent wisdom told him it was a secret, even from his twin.

Now, Alex carefully tiptoed and pulled a drawer out, wincing as it creaked a little, and his twin, who had been cheering him with hushed cries, fell silent. But he took the key, lifting it out of its resting place, and closing the drawer, but not quite properly, he skidded out of the bedroom, afraid his mother would wake to realise that they were up to mischief.

Cheering silently, they linked hands and ran, Alex leading the way this time, because his sense of direction was infallible compared to his brother's, onwards to the drawer that had always been locked. They halted, panting slightly, faces sparkling with mischief, and Aiden found a stool and noisily dragged it over to aid them better.

Alex glanced fearfully around, always a careful boy he was. And then Aiden hoisted himself up boldly and unlocked the drawer. In a minute, they had gotten all its contents out, between them; they'd opened a few envelopes, brown and thin, with white papers a bit wrinkled in them. And most of the words were not comprehensible to them, as they stared and looked at each other with questioning eyes. And in another beautiful mahogany box, Aiden pulled out a red, glowing stone, attached to a string that he put around his neck, and he exclaimed, "It's blood!"

"Don't be silly," Alex said solemnly, "Remember that day when Vea got cut by the blade of grass and Leon worried over her like anything? Blood's watery."

"Oh."

"I thought you'd know that."

"Be quiet," Aiden said irritably at his twin, "I know you like Vea."

They considered their younger cousin for a minute. She was four this year, with blossom-coloured hair that fell slightly below her chin-level and eyes like her brother's blue. But her round, lovely face was like Lacus', somewhat like Cagalli's even with the shape of her eyes, although her mouth was Lacus', soft and pink, mewling and her voice clear and like a song. Her bangs were delightfully heavy; her skin like milk, and naturally, Kira was the envy of the entire ZAFT. She was a bit shy, her hands were usually hidden in the large hanging pockets of her quaint, pastel floral dresses, but Vea always hung around Aiden, trying to match up to his wild ways with her own daring. And although she got into more trouble than he ever did because of her clumsiness, she always managed to keep up when her brother and her cousins disappeared into the woods. They did not meet quite often, perhaps once a month, but when they did, the trouble they got into would last them an entire year.

And Vea cried a lot, although she didn't mean to, but she had a sort of reckless courage that Aiden had grudgingly acknowledged. Her elder brother was always trying to teach her how to play the violin, but she would lose interest quickly and run into fields as quickly as a frightened rabbit, hiding in grass that was taller than she was. For she was a tiny child, like a fairy, petite and easy to fall in love with, and there was not a single man or woman alive who did not love her upon first sight. All three boys adored her, although they were often exasperated when she tried to come after them, half-delighted at her company, half-irritated because she would come back with her frock muddied and her blue eyes shining, and Kira would sigh and Lacus would laugh but scold them for letting her roll around in the mud. And Leon was protective of her, always trying to make sure she didn't imitate the twins' fence-climbing antics, although he did that quite often as well.

"Anyway," Alex said quickly, repeating himself to mask the fact that he had a soft spot for his younger cousin, "Blood's watery."

"Quite right," Athrun said placidly, from behind them, "And your mother would have yours if she knew about this."

His sons promptly fell over from their squatting position and scrambled to their feet, bleating with fear as he towered above them. His face was very difficult to read, that bit they both understood. With their mother, they would know when she was softening or when she was downright boiling and thirsty for their blood, but their father- he was a tough nut to crack.

"Father! We-," Alex began to stammer. Aiden's eyes were huge amber pieces in his face, and as his father glared at both of them. But Athrun's emerald eyes, if they held no expression when they passed over Alex's face, began to soften slightly at Aiden's golden ones, so like Cagalli's to look at. Alex noticed this and wondered if his father was reminded of their mother. But Aiden, not as observant as his elder twin, merely looked hopefully into his father's face with awe. They weren't too young to know that he was a revered person in this country. When they walked in streets, people stopped to bow and he always responded with a quiet dignity even while their mother blushed as her people came forward to meet their princess. But when they'd asked her if she was a princess, she'd shook her head vehemently and insisted that she wasn't one.

"I'm more than that," She had told them gently, holding them to her proudly and with a fierce love in her face, "I'm your mother."

"Imagine what she'd do," Athrun now said calmly, leaning on the wall he had been standing behind, trying hard to not burst out with laughter as he had secretly observed his sons scrambling and carrying things out of the drawer with as much diligence as the worker ants they'd found the other day.

"Lock you boys up, take away your dinner, throw a few noisy haros in the cellar you were both locked up in, maybe a few more for good measure," He paused, smiling a grim smile. The possibilities were endless.

"Don't tell her," Aiden begged, and Alex looked horribly guilty.

He considered their faces, but Alex spoke up after a minute's hesitation. "Father, I-," a terrible pause, "I did everything."

Aiden looked shocked. "What are you saying?"

His eyes glowed with an irritated fire that looked suspiciously like his mother's.

He yelped as his elder brother pinched him, and his lower lip trembled as he massaged his arm. He was helpless to say no, but he couldn't say yes either, not while their father's face was so unreadable and his words so hard to predict.

Athrun lifted an impressed brow. "In that case, I'll have to punish Alex. Aiden, you can go."

Aiden stomped his foot childishly, and his face was filled with a passionate anger. "He's lying!"

"I am not!"

"You are!"

"Not!"

"Silence," Athrun said simply, he had the gift of not having to raise his voice to obtain immediate silence. "And in that case, I suppose I'll punish both of you for opening things you weren't allowed to."

"But you didn't tell us we weren't allowed to!" Aiden protested, crossing his small arms over his chest in the way he had picked up from Cagalli as a sort of defensive measure. Athrun's mouth twitched as he survey his children. She had given him beautiful boys, so perfect and like two individual diamonds next to other children, both bright and innocent and clever. And then he sighed and knelt on one knee so he was level with the twins.

"Here's what we'll do then," he said lightly, although he took a bit of effort to maintain the stern, leveled gaze. "Both of you have to return me a favour when I call for it someday. And you won't be allowed to not say yes. Agreed?"

Aiden immediately nodded, cheered by the prospect, rash in his eagerness to save his twin for saving him. But Alex was frowning, considering all the alternatives or anything horrible the returned favour would entail. Athrun understood and smiled, knowing this son was almost like knowing himself all over again, and he smirked a little. "Would you rather deal with your mother?"

Alex quickly rounded up his considerations and offered a tiny hand. "Deal."

Aiden, still wearing the haumea, protested. "I still don't know what this is!"

Athrun sat down, tired of squatting, and the twins crowded around him, their hands curious on his shoulders, and he looked carefully at it, inspecting it for cracks and lifting it up so it cast a brilliant ruby glow on the floor, and he replied simply, "It's a Haumea. A blessing."

They remained in silence, Athrun in a peaceful one, a smile already unconsciously on his face, and the boy in an awed one. They had never seen a stone like this before, although their mother wore one remotely like it on her hand. They had seen, or rather, peeped into their parent's room once after a dinner party they'd had at their godfather's sprawling home, possibly even larger than the maze they had been born in, a place filled with a hundred or so important people who they had addressed as Uncles and Aunts.

And when they'd peeked into their parent's rooms, after they'd been changed out from their matching, miniature suits and bowties that had caused a mass outcry of loving sighs and squeals, they'd seen their father and mother standing by the curtains.

Their silhouettes had been the only thing visible, black against silver and blue in the moonlight, and they'd seen their father kiss her hand as the ruby glinted. They hadn't understood, but they'd been strangely comforted to watch.

The envelopes lay on the floor, and Athrun looked at them, relieving the days when they'd been in another drawer, bitterly forgotten while waiting for his signature. And they were useless papers now, just worth keeping for old times' sake. Another envelope hadn't been brought out yet, and he carefully tipped its contents out. Dozens of photographs spilled out like a disconnected series of films, one by one, on the white marble of the floor.

There was one of Cagalli smiling at Athrun as he sat on the arm of a chair she was resting in, their newborn sons lying in her arms peacefully. There was something distinctively like Via Hibiki to look at, in the way she smiled and the way she held her sons, except that her eyes were on her children and Athrun was beside her, his eyes focused on their sons as well. Another showed Cagalli was sitting in her drawing room, smiling shyly at the something in the distance, not quite looking at the camera, beautiful and golden in a resplendent white dress, resembling something of an ethereal dryad with her golden eyes and golden hair. She had been pregnant with them at that point, and Athrun had stood a distance away as the shutter had clicked.

The photographer had been dismayed; he had tried to insist that they take another portrait so she would be looking directly at the camera, but she had taken one look at the faraway expression in her eyes, laughed, and said that it was good enough. There were a few more of Athrun speaking to people, in his uniform, addressing the troops as the edges of the picture showed the dozens of flashes as cameras had clicked in the instant when he'd been making his statement. And there was another of Athrun standing next to Cagalli as their faces turned, like their bodies, to the side, appearing before their people.

"You," Athrun said abruptly, bringing his hand upon Aiden so suddenly that the boy flinched, but relaxed upon realizing his father's touch was firm but gentle, "Stop letting your curiosity get the better of you."

"And you," He continued, drawing his first son closer, "Stop being so indulgent with your younger brother."

"Sound advice," Cagalli's voice rose behind the wall that Athrun had been standing behind so recently, "And what are you all doing?"

She came forward, her hair lovely and softly-tousled from her sleep, her eyes soft and inquisitive and her lips pink with natural vigor and youth. She slipped near them, and Athrun watched her, re-familiarising himself, for the umpteenth time, with her frame beneath the slightly gauzy dress she wore. The umpteenth time still felt like the first. He nearly laughed aloud, imagining how she would have rose in color if he had expressed his thoughts.

She took another step forward, bare footed and smelling faintly of the flowers that grew outside in the gardens, wild and a complete mesh of colours, and the citrus freshness of her shampoo.

The twins gulped, but Athrun smiled.

"Just remembering."

"Is that all?" She asked curiously, stretching a little to reveal that she was not quite awake yet, "I woke up because you weren't there, and then I saw the drawer a bit open, and assumed you'd all come here. You opened it, didn't you?"

She looked carefully at them, as if silently daring them to say anything else, and Athrun nodded confidently, and the twins looked slightly less tense.

But the photographs were all over the place, and she picked one up, smiling slightly as she looked at the two-year old Alexander and Aiden carrying an old, rather startled cat. Her tail was bristling with indignant rage.

She looked around and her eyes were questioning, "What were you all up to?"

"Nothing much," Athrun replied smoothly, standing up and the twins tottered around his waist, grabbing his knees to steady themselves, "Do you remember this?"

He held up the haumea, and her lips parted in surprise. "Yes, but I haven't taken it out for so long."

"Now's a good time," Athrun said simply, and he hung it around her neck, one end still in his hand so she was bound to it and him, and then he shooed the boys off. They scampered off, for they did not need a second warning. Later, they would come back to neaten the things, he would make sure of that. For now-

He brought his face closer to hers, relishing her widened eyes and her sweet mouth as he kissed her, glad that the twins had already scampered off to meet their cousins who would come later in the growing evening. Her soft arms closed around his neck as she tiptoed a little, welcoming his touch while the slight drizzle of rain began to sound from outside in the growing evening. The clouds had finally given way, and the rain pattered softly, revitalizing the flowers, scattering diamonds among the grass and quenching the land's thirst.

A window was open and the wind blew and whistled its song, and he brushed the hair off her neck, allowing the wind to tease their skin. She laughed, a bright, contented sound, and he murmured that the rain would become heavier soon. In response, she reached out and opened the window wider to invite the sweetly-scented, crisp air in, made cold by the new rain.

And the future spread before them, glowing and beckoning to both of them and the years to come.

* * *

The End.


End file.
